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MEMOIRS ^.o<r 

AND ^ " ^ ^ 

Moral Prodactions and Selections 



OF 

Miss ELIZA PERKINS, 

Who died in New-York, June 20, 1823, aged \% 
years. 



i 



When life's tempestuous stornnsare o'er, 
How calm she meets the friendly shore, 

Who lived averse to sjp ; 
Such peace on virtue's path attends, 
That; where the sinner's pleasure ends 

The Christian's joys begin. 

See smiling patience smooth her brow, 
See the kind angels wailing now, 

To lift her soul on high ! 
While eager for the blest abode, 
She joins with them to praise the God 

Who taught her hovv to die. 



NEW-YORK, 

Printed by G. HiLLsoN for Wm. Randall— <1S^S. 

(Price 25 Cents) 



MEMOIRS 

OF 

THE LIFE 

OF 

MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 



Miss Eliza Perkins, whose excellent moral 
Productions and Selections will be found recorded 
in the succeeding pages, was born of reputable and 
pious parents in New-York, January 27, 1804. At 
a very early age she was much pleased with Scrip- 
ture History, and by her conversation exhibited evi- 
dent proofs that the infant mind is early capable of 
receiving and entertaining correct ideas of God and 
Religion. As she advanced in years, no pains were 
spared in the cuhivaiioi} of her mind, and the easy 
ciicumsiances in »vhica she was born and lived, to- 
gether with the circle of society in which she was 
wont to move, afforded her advantages which biit 
few enjoy— perhaps a more happy, meek, or affec- 
tionate disposition thaa that which she possessed 
has Tv^^reiy ever been known. 



4 MEMOIRS OF 

Her health began gradually to decline in the early 
part of February 1830, from which period she ap* 
pears to have bid adieu to ail vain amusen\ents and 
pursuits of this frail world, and to have devoted her 
time to the more important concerns of eternity— as 
she possessed an excellent education, much of her 
time during her illness was employed in perusing 
the moral works of pious authors, and selecting 
therefrom such parts which she conceived would be 
of the most importance to her fellow mortals, (par- 
ticularly those who had been the companions of her 
youth,) which, together with her own moral and well 
written productions, she left in manuscript, expres- 
sing a willingness in the last moments of her illi^ess 
to have published, if her friends should consider 
them of sufficient merit. Her disease was of a 
lingering kind, a circumstance of peculiar advan- 
tage for manift sling the influence of Religion in 
death — and as the testimony of a dying female, in 
the prime of life, ought to have seme weight with 
those who hear it, we hope and trust much good 
will be derived by the aged and young, from an at- 
tentive perusal of the pious exhortations cf Miss 
Perkif.s. 

It was scon after her Physicians pronounced her 
complaint incurable, that the fear uf death sserncJ 
to forsake her, intimating that her fuiih was confirm- 
ed, and her hope established, and always conversed 
on her approaching dissolution with much apparent 
satisfacticn— ^manifesting a continual desire to de- 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 5 

part and be with Christ. Tier soul seemed particu- 
larly ill her last illness to have anticipated heaven. 

A few moments previous to her death she re- 
quested her friends who were present to assemble 
at her bed side, being sensible she said that she was 
then about to leave them, to meet them no more in 
this world, she had some little advice to impart 
while yet blessed with the power of speech. Her 
request being complied with, they were addressed 
by Miss Perkins in the most afiiciing and impres- 
sive manner— she assured them of her supports, of 
the goodness of God, and the blessedness of Reli- 
gion — she admonished them, in the most affection- 
ate terms, not to neglec^t Religion, and encouraged 
them to seek the kingdom of God, by referring 
them to that composure which they now saw in her 
in her last moments—** Thus peaceful" said she 
*• will you be in the last hour, if yim devote your- 
selves lo the service of God.*' Having concluded 
her dying councils to her friends, she very correctly 
and composedly repeated the following Hymn, which 
she earnestly requested might be sung at the tomb 
at the interment of her mortal remains : 
Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb,^ 
Take this n&»v treasure to thy trusty 
And give these sacred relics room, 
To seek a slumber in the dust. 

Break from the throne illustrious morr), 
Attend, O earthj his sovereign word, 



b MEMOIRS OF 

Restore thy trust, a glorious for m, 
She must ascend to meet her Lord* 

Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear 
Invade thy bounds ; no mortal woes 
Can reach the lovely sleeppr here, 
And angels watch her soft repose. 

So Jesus slept, God's dying Son, 

Past through the grave, and blest the bed ; 

Rest here, dear saint, till from his throne, 

The morning break, and pierce the shade. 

— in a few moments after repeating the last line of the 

preceding Hymn, she turned her head and smiled 

on her friends present, and then, ^ith a serene 

countenance and inexpressible composure, turning 

her eyes toward Heaven, expired without a sigh or 

groan. 

To the reader we cannot afford greater proof of 
the amiableness of character sustained by this justly 
esteemed young lady, while living, than here to 
recoid the following eulogy, by a particular ac* 
quaintance and friend, which appeared in a public 
print of New- York a few days after her decease.— 

" It call'd Eliza long before the hour, 
It caird her tender soul by break of bliss." 
« 
The boding flush of charm'd Consumption came, 
Among the freshVmg flowers of her cheek, 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 7 

And softly fed there with a smiling flamei 

That still grew brighter many a beauteous week : 

Till there was seen a richer dawn ot red, 
And a less mellow'd fervour in its light ; 

It was the gaudy prospect of the dead, 
A splendid herald of an early blight : 

The rose of death mix'd with life's feebler iqigj 

And beauty bore her to her last repose. 

There was a gay yet solemn elegance, 

In that sweet sign which hinted of the tomb $ 
Death seldom made so lovely an advance, 

So full of languor, luxury and bloom ; 
Like glowing clouds that decorate the sky, 

At vernal sunset on a bashful shore 
Brightest and loveliest to the heart and eye, 

When night's dark pinion is just hovering o*er^ 
To sweep their fresh and florid light away, 
And make us mourn that such things should decay. 

And this fair girl was laid within her shroud, 
And gentle mourners sighed a quivering prayer^ 

For lasting sorrow never yet was loud, 
But dumb like that of delioate despair ; 

And her blue eyes look'd beautifully bluer^ 
Altho' a gloss^y dullness bathed them o'er ; 

Her face was calm — her spirit had been pure, 

And now is taken to a holier breast 

Than that to which in this world it had prcst* 



MEMOIRS OF 



But wherefore weep when youth and virtue fall, 

Ere the soul's sunshine had been soil'd by earth ; 
They rise to realms of blessedness in all, 

The undini'd promise of their budding worth ; 
And by that blest exchange escape the snares 

That strew the pathway of the purest here, 
The bright temptations and the glittering carcst 

That clothe young eyes with many a gilded tear, 
And prove that e'en the noblest must sustain, 
In human scenes, their share of human pain. 

The much esteemed Eliza P. whose early exit 
produced the preceding imperfect tribute to her 
memory, was descended from reputable parents, 
who were in a situation to nurture the tender infant 
to maturity of body and mind* Indeed the deUcacy 
of her frame was such, that nothing but the assidu- 
ity and watchful attention of maternal tenderness 
could have prevented the feeble plant from perish- 
ing in its earliest stage. Parental affection too, as- 
sisted the flexible faculties to take their right bent, 
and the uncorrupted heart to retain its puiity. Gen- 
tle and*docile from nature, it was not a task, but a 
pleasure, to conduct her ready inclinations through 
all the paths of filial affection, attention and submis. 
sion. Modest and unassuming, she ever paid a pro- 
per deference to her superiors, and a profound re- 
spect to her parents; and if she erred at ali, it was 
in her condescensions to her inferiorsj, and those 
were younger than herself, yet there was nothing in 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. ^ 

her that was servile and mean. On the contrary, 
you might discover, is her whole deportment, a mod- 
est dignity, the dignity of conscious virtue and inno- 
cence. Her soft and obsequious temper might often 
have exposed her to the danger of being led astray, 
by the examples or solicitations of those, whose prin- 
ciples, and whose moruis were faulty. But the 
quickness of her own moral sense, aided by the ear- 
ly counsels; aud steady patron of propriety, which she 
received from her parents, rendered the citadel of 
her heart impregnable to the assaults ot evil. Such 
a character couid not fail of being beloved, and res- 
pected by ail ; especially as she endeared herself to 
ail, as well as to her particular Iriends, by her native 
sweetness, her sisterly kindness, and her habitual as- 
siduities. Those indeed who love not goodness it- 
self, and are offendtd at a lustre superior to their 
own, might withhold their praise. Yec the envious 
and the evil had less malignity against her; because 
her modesty rather veiled her brightness, and rend- 
ered it less dazzling. Her features were soft and 
pleasing, expressive of the moral beauties of her sou!* 
She was gentech easy and effable ; and her conver- 
sation pleased all who were present, and injured none 
that were absent. Her constant attendance on pub- 
lic worship (until prevented by extreme indispose 
tion ;) her unaffected seriousness while divine service 
was performing ; her abstaining from all levity, and 
secluding herself from all company on the sabbath, 
but that of the family where she resided, as it favor- 



10 



MEMOIRS Off 



cd nothing of preciscness or gloom, so it displayed 
an exemplary decorum. 

To all her other accomplishments, she added the 
spirit of religion. Her whole heart and conduct 
were under its sacred influences and restraints. It 
was her opinion, thai with all her other acquirements, 
she should be criminally deficient, if she did not pay 
a supreme regard to that Being, to whom she was in- 
debted for life, comfort, and hope. While, therefore, 
her conduct was calculated to please her fellow crea. 
tures, it was her invariable aim to tLalk so as to please 
God, She early made a profession of Christianity ; 
and her whole conversation was consistent and uni« 
form. 

And now, did her religion obscure any of her 
charms? Nay, it added to them a superior lusire and 
loveliness. Did it unfit her for cheerful company, 
Far otherwise : her religion, like a becoming robe, 
sat easy and gracefully upon her. While she was 
habitually careful never to counteract its sacred dic- 
tates, she was careful too never to violate the rites of 
good breeding, nor to interrupt, by any unseasonable 
remarks, or forbidding from, the innocent amuse- 
ments of a cheerful circle. 

Such was Eliza I And how happy for her friends 
and for the world, could her life have been pretract- 
ed ! — But Eliza was mqr tal 1 — Too delicate for 
the changes and rigors of this nether world, she was 
seized at the age of fifteen with a debility and decay, 
whi|h gradually withered her roses, quincneci the 



1«ISS ELIZA PERKINS. tl 

lustre of her eye ; weakened, and at length stopped 
the springs of life. But see now the advantage and 
the worth of religion. If her external beauties fad* 
ed, those of the mind and heart shone oifl with in» 
creasing brightness. The comforts of religion re* 
pressed her fears, confimed her hopes, and delight* 
cd her souL Thus refined and perfected, at the age 
of eighteen, she drops her mantle of clay, and joins 
her kindred angels. But what are the feelings of 
those she has left behind ! Read them in the tears 
and in the plaudits of her numerous acquaintances 
and friends ; their plaudits of her excellenceS| and 
their tears for their own loss I 

If ever friendship wept with soul sincere, 
*Twas o^er the lovM Eliza'b early bier ; 
Nor youth, nor loveliness adorn'd alone, 
For thrice Narcissa's worth was all her own. 

Mild were her virtues, of that gentle kind, 
Bespeaking sense with purity of mind ; 
While bland religious most celestial ray 
Corrected, sooth'd, illum'd Eliza's way. 

How must her doating parents^ heart deplore, 
The lovely daughter they beheld no more, 
Her brothers now laments their loss severe 
And tenderer sisters shed the hearts warm tear. 

Alas ! their anxious friendship could not save 
Their dear Eliza from th' invidious grave; 
'Twas Heavens decree, cease then ye plaintive 

sighs. 
For heaven delighted, caird her to the skies. 



n MOBAL PRODUCTT0^'S, &€- 



MORAL PRODUCTIONS and SELECTIONS 

OF 

Miss ELIZA PERKINS. 

We sliall here commence the record of (he Mor- 
al ProductioriB and Selections of the much lamented 
Miss Perkins, with a letter written by her to a 
younger and absent sister, a few months previous 
to her death : — 
" Dear Sister, 
'* My complaint has at length arriv^ed at that tri- 
sis, as to render it almost certain that the brittJe 
thread of life must soon part — my cough increases 
and such indeed is my weakness and bodily pains at 
this moment, that it is with much difficulty that I 
attempt to address a few lines to you — but, as they 
in all probability will be the last, never did I address 
you with such feelings, as I now do. O ! my sister, 
bow blessed is the souh wiiich relinquishes the van- 
ities of the world, ?nd finds rest in Jesus ! Destitute 
of the image of Christ, we are destitute of all real 
beauty, compared with Christian holiness; and this 
never appears to so much advantage as in youth. 
How delighilul the thought of lovely youth attending 



MISS ELIZA PERKII^S. 15 

to the one thing needful, and, amid all the tempting 
pleasures and countless dangers of life, looking up 
to the God of all grace, and finding refuge there, I 
must not forbear telling you, my dear sister, that 
your present condition excites concern as well as 
pleasure. I long that you may be fiiied tvith conso- 
lation, and holy confidence. Our religion will meet 
with trials in this life ; but there is a repentance which 
needeth not to be repented of. There is a faith 
which unites the soul to Christ. There is a change 
of heart, which preparer for the kingdom of God. 
Religion is a reality. It will last. Nothing on earth 
is so desirable, *Tis the only flower which bears an 
unfading bloom. Endeavour my dear sister, to form 
clear ideas of the nature of saving religion — let the 
word of God be your daily study, and your constant 
guide-^let the house of God be your delight, and the 
friends of God your dear companions ; and let your 
heart .prize the throne of grace above all other privi* 
leges and joys—yield yourself unto God : be em- 
ployed for him wholly, and for ever~walk in his 
ways, and he will give you his consolations. 

Under my present heavy affiictions, dear sister, £ 
can say with the Psalmist *' 1 know, O Lord, that thy 
judgments are right, and that thou, in faithfulness 
hast afflicted me/' J have indeed cause to bless 
God that he is now teaching me the vanity of this 
world, and exciting me to ripen for the joys of a glo» 
rious immortality. 
3 



14 MORAL PROBUCTIpNSi kc, pV 

Many in sickness are inclined to say, that some o« 
ther affliction would be belter suited to pronnote their 
V^est good, and that some other lime would be a more 
fit time than the peiiod that was chosen'-^but how 
incompetent judges are we, what is wisest and best 
to be done ? If we were to be our own judges in 
such casesi we might strive to pitch upon a trial 
and for a time of suffering, which would lead us to 
avoid the cross, and leave us strangers to our own 
hearts ;— -we might, indeed, by planning for ourselves, 
be involved in far greater difficulty and sink into dis« 
pair. God, who knoweth our particular franoe and 
iemper, best knoweth when and how to try us, and 
how long to continue us under the rod. If we de- 
rive spiritual benefit from the afflictions which we 
endure, we shall be humbled for our sins, and we 
fihall be still; and know that the Lord he is God r-^ 
we shall no longer say, any other trouble rather than 
the present; and any other time to endure it rather 
than the present ; but we shall say " O Lord, thy will 
be done, both as to the kind and continuance of afflic- 
tion— oh, cause me to adore thy justice and thy wis- 
dom, and humbly to implore thy mercy." 

To conclude, my dear Almira, it is now my earnest 
prayer that you may peruse this my last letter, with 
as much interest as it has been penned by the feeble 
hsrd of your dying sister, who commends you to 
Him, who can rescue you from danger, who can car- 
ry you in the arms of his mercy through this vale of 



MISS ELIZA P£RKIN8. 1$ 

teari, and prepare you for the perfect purity Itid bliss 

of heaven— and now 

My belov'd Sister thou nay dearest friendf 
To thee, this last— thiife fond adieu I send ; 
Death fast approaches to assent his right. 
And Tcry soon will veil me from thy sight j 
He woos mo to him with a cheerful grace, 
And not one terror clouds his awful face ; 
He promises a lasting rest from paini 
And shews that all life's fleeting joys are vain ;. 
Th' eternal scenes of Heaven he sets in vietr, 
And tells me that no other joys are true. 
And O, Almira ! my endeared friend 
Say, should'st thou grieve to see my sorrows end ? 
Thou know'st a painful pilgrimage I've past. 
And can you mourn that rest should come at last. 

Eliza Perkins* 

Reflections on the Tolling of the Bell for a de- 
ceased person, at tlie commencement of a New* Year, 
addressed by Miss Perkins to such of her female 
companions with whom she had been most intimate- 
ly acquainted :-«• 

*' Hark ! that solemn, doleful toll, 

Announces the departure of a soul i" 

Yes I my dear friends ! and before the close of the 
present year, how often will that solemn toll be re. 
peated !— how many *ere the relapse ot this ihort pe* 
riod, will depart this vain world! who now, young, 
gay, and in the full vigour of life, seem regardless of 



16 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, fcc. OF 

Iheirown mortal state, and conduct as if they indeed 
— " Thought all mortal but themselves l'*— alas ! my 
dear associates !— companions of my youth !— I, who 
eannot expect to continue but a few days longer with 
youj but twelve months ago, like you, enjoyed bloom- 
ing health ! and like you, thought the day of my des- 
solution far distant ! — alas ! sad disappointmentr 1 how 
sudden and unexpected the change I— -in the midst 
of my earthly enjoyments, my pleasing anticipatioiis, 
1 was selected from among your number, as the vic- 
tim of fatal disease ! and although just beginning to 
livCi the king of terrors, it is not improbable> will 
shortly pronounce fne ripe for the grave ! 

Wy dear young friends — a New- Year commences 
—and while you pTirticipate in the amusemenis of the 
season) seriously reflect, that you may be of that 
number, who will never witness another ! — permit 
me to assure you, however serious the thought, how- 
ever melancholly the refleclion, that such indeed may 
be your fate ! — permit my sudden change, from a^ 
state ofblocming heaiih and activity, toihat of pain- 
ful and mortal sickness, seriously to impress your 
minds, that ** from death's airest no age is free i" — 
that youth, beauty and vigour, are but feeble barriers 
to the fatal shafts of mortality, which flying promis- 
cuously around, may select some one o^jou too, *ere 
the close of the present year, as a viciim !— -it is even 
possible that this night we close our eyts to sleep the 
sleep of death ! Thousands have been thus surpriz- 
ed and ushered unexpected and unprepared, into the 



MISS EtttA PERKiNS. IT 

presence of their Judge— thousands, as young and 
gay as yourselves, have been as suddenly torn from 
their friends, and palsied by the cold hand of the de- 
stroyer ! — human life is *' but a vapour that appear* 
eth for a little time, and then vaai^heth away I" iiow^ 
unwise then, my dear friends, must it be to delay in 
the great concerns of immortality from day to day- 
there is no pause in time — every rolling year, every 
month, every day, every hour is burring us on to eter- 
niiy.— Promptitude is no where more commendable 
than in Religion — death, judgment and eternity, the 
invitations of the gospel, the raptures of immortal 
bliss, the mortaUty ot the human race, all unite to en- 
force the exhortation, " seek ye the Lord vt^hile he 
may be found." E, P, 



UNCERrAINTY OF LIFE. 

HOW many solemn ideas, affectionate and pro- 
found, do the silent tombs ^ield to the mind, which 
contemplates them with gravity, and consul. s them 
with seriousness. When we reflect that it is the 
house prepared for all the living,' when we consider 
that a number younger than ourselves now moulder 
in the dust, that some of our nearest and dearest con- 
nections have made their exit from this vale of tears, 
what solemn impressions crowd in upon our minds — 
we have followed them to the grave, we have commit- 
ted them to the bowels ofihe ear ihjiihe/ have taken 

2* 



IS MORAL PRODUCTIONS; 3CC. OF 

their subterraneous passage to eternity, and the places 
which once knew them, know them no more for ever. 
Where are the living ? Going down the rapid tide of 
time, and according to the invariable laws of nature, 
must soon sleep in dust. Do not these considerations 
suggest a necessity of preparation ? Can any harm 
accrue from having our lamps trimmed and burning, 
ready for our departure hence ? If not, let us eslab^ 
lish our principles and conduct by the rules of Chris- 
tianity, let the criterion of our actions be in consonj- 
ance with the oracles of truth, which require us to re- 
nounce all ungodliness and cupidity, and to live righ- 
teously &c« Let him who wanteth in his youth, his 
strength, activity and prosptct of long life, go to the 
silent tombs and learn, that the monster death is am- 
bitious and insatiate and discriminates not between 
young and old, but selects his victim, from every age, 
from every rank and condition of life. 

To contemplate the hour ot dissolution is the indis- 
pensable duty of transitory mortals. Did we know 
the moment of departure, repentance might, perhaps 
be procrastinated. But as the Deity has, for wise 
and benevolet]t purposes, shut futurity from our view ; 
as the next moment may be the harbinger of dtath, 
the call for preparation is loud and imperious. Let 
me ask him, who has rioted in dissipation, who has 
drank the bowl of intemperance to the bottom, what 
must he think if he awoke fiom the sleep of intemper- 
ance at the eternal tribunal of oflended and insulted 
Omnipotence ! Life is held by so transitcry a te- 



MlilS EtIZA PERKINS. tD^ 

mire ; ao many casualties way -lay and beset us at e* 
very step we advance, that not to prepare for that e» 
vent, betrays a kind of morbid insensibility of heart, 
more fittinp^ for a brute than a man. Well does in* 
spiration ask the question, ^'Our fathers, where are 
they V We behold the mansion of our youth ; the 
tree, where our infant sports endeared our existence ; 
and where we once beheld the venerable form of a 
parent, smiling with tenderness on his children*—^ 
Look for him now— the *' place, which once knew 
him, knows him no more j" and we can only find him 
covered with the clods of the valley. It is an un» 
doubted fact, that death redoubles the value of the 
object by deprivation. Although the heart cannot 
tax itself with any criminal act, remembrance awakes 
a thousand iiistances of those petty transgressions, to 
which all human nature is liable, which give a poig- 
nancy to the sufferings of the mourner. However 
much we loved the object of our grief when alive, 
when dead we are persuaded we ought to have loved 
more. Whatever irritations existed are buried with 
the corps— whatever was noble or lovely in tke char- 
acter, survives a melancholy remembrance. Thus 
does the heart of affliction create new materials for 
misery ;— and I will add, for the comfort of the mour- 
ner^ that this very propensity is the sure mark of an 
amiable mind. When sickness wears away the con*- 
stitution by the ^* cold gradations of decay '* the sur- 
viving friends are, in a measure^ prepared for the aw-, 
ful change that is soon to succeed. But where w^ 



^d 



90 MORAL PRODUCTIONS) ScC. OF 

behold the face at one moment flushed with health, 
and the next covered with the paleness of death, the 
change is so sudden and awful^ that the heart sinks 
under the weight of its pressure. Let those, who 
have been thus afflicted, now pass in melancholy re- 
view a life without reproach towards God. Let me- 
mory supply what death has taken away ; and by fol- 
lowing the footsteps of the dear deceased, be prepar- 
ed for a dissolution as sudden, and leave behind them 
a character equally revered^ 



On death. 

** How vain is man, how short his days t 
At longest date, he's soon destroyed : 
Not mortal meeds or human praise. 
Can, Death's cold darts fly or avoid% 
Why should we then indulge in sin, 
Or lave in vicious pleasure's tide ? 
For if we once are plung'd therein, 
To endless woe, we soon shall glide.** 

" Think, mortal, what it is to die !*' 

TO bid farewell to all below the sun—to dia» 
solve connection with all that now gives pleasure or 

pain to launch away to a world unknown, are ideas 

included in the dissolution of that misterious tie, 
which unites the immortal tenet to a house of clay* 
— — *What scenes of wonder and amtucment will 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. SI 

unfold, when once the curtain drops, is known only 
to those who have made the experiment. 

Must we shortly close our eyes on all terrestial 
scenes ? Why then, should we distract our minds 
with anxiety in the various pursuits of life ? Why 
toil to heep up treasures we are soon to leave ? Why 
harbour envy in our breasts at those who arc high 
fed in the lap of Fortune ; when we know that a few 
revolving §^ns will bring the period when Death shall 
demolish all distinctions, but those of virtue and vice ? 
Why cherish resentment, even against our most in- 
veterate enemies? A few momeuts and the lamp 
of life is extinguished, and with it both their love 
and their hatred. Why value ourselves on the ad- 
vantages of birth, the attainment of learning, or the 
blandishments of beauty i The grave knows none 
of these. The rich and the poor, the prince and the 
cottager, the learned and the illiterate, here mingle 
in one common mass ; and beauty, though once a ri» 
val of Venus, is here a repast for worms. One con* 
sideration more applies itselt with peculiar force, be- 
cause it involves eternal consequences. Do we be- 
lieve that we are beings designed for endless exist- 
ence, and that this lile is a state of piobaiion ? Shall 
we then suffer the objects of a day to engross our 
whole attention ( Shall we spend our lives in pur- 
suit of a bubble, while we acknowledge, that, short as 
is the race of life, we run for an eternal prize ?— 
Forbid it. Heaven ! Nor let it be ever said, that ra- 
iioiiai beings act a part so absurd. 



23 MORAL FHODUCTIONS9 &C. OF 

Meditation on death is always useful, and Is parti« 
cularly salutary in a long and dangerous iUness^ vrhich 
leaves us in possession of all our intellectual facuU 
ties. To meditate with advantage on death it should 
be contemplated closely with a religious mind. This 
contemplation is not without pleasure) it produces a 
sublime emotion, of which no other sentiment can 
convey an idea : k elevates, it fills the whole soul ; it 
Confuses, but it exalts the imagination in the most 
delightful manner. How great and aflfecting are the 
thoughts of a virtuous man on the bed of death ! In 
another moment he will depart to lee, to know every 
thing ; he will be eternally united with the only source 
of all perfection. That active and inquisitive spirit 
will presently be permitted to discover unveiled 
truth ; that tender soul, which nothing could satisfy^ 
is gone to enjoy the bliss of loving beyond nseasure 
to all eternity I What a hope ! What an expecta- 
tion I 

Pale DEATH, with equal step, his tocsin rings, 
At the poors* cottage, and the lowers of kings. 

The apostasy of our first parents introduced the 
monster death into our world ; and convened into a 
forest, producing; briars and thorns, the blibsful gar- 
den of Eden. His ravages, on the human race, com- 
menced with the death of *' righteous Abelj" since 
which time, the passage from time to eternity has 
been guarded by this grim janitor :— and but two, by 
miraculous translation) have been exempted from the 



MISS ELIZA FERKINd* 23 

curse, pronounced upon the representative of man* 
kind, " dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou re- 
turn.'* Emisaries from this fell tyrant, in the shape 
of various diseases and accidents, are posting on the 
wings of every fleeting moment, to execute the com- 
missions assigned to them. Subtle and insinuating, 
they veil their instiuments of deiiiruction under the 
most engaging appearances; and glide their poison- 
ed darts, without blunting their points. Impartial 
and undistinguished, '* the high, the low, the rich, and 
the poor," are arrested in their course hy these gloo- 
my messengers ; and cornmiued to the custody of 
reptiles, in the prison of the earth. 

To the space of threescore years and ten, in mcrcyt 
the term of life is usually limited. Were we to re- 
flect upon the subject, bui a moment ; we should a^ 
confess. that the curtailing of the ancient term of pro* 
bation, is indeed an act of mercy. Those whose 
years have afforded them experience of but a short 
space of active life ; who have but ju6t launched from 
parental care into the boisterous ocean; must soon 
be satisfied that the toils and perils of the voyage are 
great, and must soon confess with the marine r^ who 
has toiled through the greater part of the prescribed 
track, that distinguishedly happy are those, whom the 
'' CAPTAIN of Salvation*' receives early to himself j 
kindly abridging the term of preparatory service. 

But although reason gives this decision, the feel* 
ings cannot but recoil at the idea of dissolution. Ali.^ 
have ties, more or less binding, which connect them 



24 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, 8cC. OF 

with this world ; the rending of which is excruciat- 
ing to ^* poor human nature." The charms which a- 
lone greatly interest tlie beholder of this state are 
friendship and love. Those vvho feel these ennobling 
sensations, are shocked with the idea of even a mo» 
nientary seperation from the object of affection ; or 
of a temporary interruption of the blissful intercourse. 
But as we cannot expect, in the usual couise of e» 
vents, that the same moment will release, from their 
clayey tabernacles, the souls of our tendcrest connc 
xions, and of ourselves ; the mind should endeavor to 
fortify itself, by right preparation, for the sad solem- 
nity of bidding them adieu i or receiving, from their 
trembling lips, the last mournful accents. God of 
consolation I who cunst give strength to the feeble 
knees, and support the sinking heart; assist^ su$tain> 
and comfort any agonized survivor of a "sister," a 
parent, a brother, or a friend. 

But " All men think all men mortal, but them- 
selves." However astonishing it be, the conduct of 
mankind, proclaims^^that the " evil day is far off;" the 
irrational supposition, of his own immortality, is ex- 
pressed by each one's life ; and the assurance of scrip- 
ture, confirmed by daily experience, is disregarded, 
arid obedience to its call for immediate readiness is 
deferred* The gay and pleating objects, which hon- 
or, wealth, and pleasure, paint on the delusive can- 
vass, enrapture the si^perficiail spectator ; and the 
sage who, with the sombre pencil of experience, 
should inscribe en the front •'' vanity of vanities ;" 



ifISS ELIZA PERKINS. 25 

would be branded as a cynic, and the label of trath 
be pronounced the severity of dotage. 

As reflection employs our minds, th6 vanity of man 
and his trifling existence, appear in a most striking 
and conspicuous manner. Born of dust and nursed 
by mortality, what can his fading body effect, what 
" lasting honors*' can he excite, to crown his un* 
known days with deathless and extatic fame ? The 
weak and futile projects of his mind, bis nobler part, 
are scarce conceived and confirmed, before he sinks 
in death and leaves his vain intentions in oblivion. 
Possessed of nothing which he can value as his own, 
not even the breath he draws, what are his prospects 
of futurity, what are the views which bound his ima» 
ginauon and actuate his impotent powers ? Engag- 
ed in anxious pursuits and occupied in the cares of 
gathering wealth and fame, he toils for that which he 
cannot enjoy, and grasps at that which eludes his 
reach. "How vain" then, h^w poor and worthless 
is man ! What trifling toys, what frivolous objects 
surpass his value and importance^ Yet man has one 
possession which is truly valuable and lasting as im- 
mortality — a mind — ^a ^oul. This noble part of man 
is formed for glory ; but may be doomed to infamy. 
By the exercise of that mind in virtue and upri.sjht- 
ness, it is amply prepared for superlative felicity in 
the Celestal regions ; and by its habits of vice and in- 
justice, it is justly fated'^to interminable sorrow in the 
Tartarean realms of woe. *»Why should we then 
indulge in sin/' or act the part of <* demons here on 



26 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, &C. OF 

earth ?** There are many ways in which the mind of 
man is debated and corrupted and many means by 
which it might exalt itself and ennoble its possessor. 
But alas ! how few reflect on these things with 
sentiments of candor and belief; how few are willing 
to yield the sensual gratifications of the present lime 
and enjoy the permanent joys of regular and virtuous 
pursuits ! How trifling the number who can submit 
to practice humanity and sacrifice the petty and un- 
'worthy motives of animal enjoyments I But notwith- 
standing these facts, and the obticus necessity of a 
virtuous course of conduct through this brief and tran* 
sitory stale, yet, multitudes of rational mortals live 
as tho' they were to remain forever, totally void of 
morality, and- entirely careless of future destinies. 
Pursuing the unsatii^factory toys of inclination, with- 
out restraint or prudence, they enjoy them for a mo» 
ment and forget that now the tolling bell announces 
the decease of a neighbor and that to-mormv,^ they 
may be deprived of their temporary pleasures and 
hurled amongst the senseless dust of earth. The 
knowledge of the certainty that all must die, and that 
the passing hour may be the last, ought to convince 
the unsteady and immoral of the propriety and im- 
portance of spending sonae portion of life in prepar* 
ation for death. If upon enquiry^ it is found that deatli 
is but the necessary consequence of existence and a 
debt due to nature only, then there will be a time to 
'^ lave in vicious pleasure's tide" and gratify the ut* 
most wish Df sensual and animal enjoyment. But if 



MISS ELIZA PERKIIfS. ST 

death introduces us immediately to realms of bliss or 
regions of distress, how politie to Jit for immortal 

joy ! 

Time, like a long flowing stream, makes haste 
into eternity, and is forever lost and swallowed up 
in there ; and while it is hastening Co its period, it 
sweeps away all things which are not immortal. 
There is a limit appointed by providence to the alu- 
ration of all the pleasant and desirable scenes of life, 
to all the works of the hands of men, with all the 
glories and excellencies of animal nature, and all 
that is made of flesh ••ind blood. Let us not doat 
upon any thing here below for Heaven hath inscrib- 
ed vanity upon it. The moment is hastening when 
the decree of Heaven shall be uttered, and Provi- 
dence shall pronounce upon every glory of the earih, 
" Its time shall be no longer.** 

What is that stately buildings that princely palace, 
which now entertains and amuses our sight with 
ranks of marble columns^ and wide spreading arck- 
es, that gay edifice which enriches our imagination 
wiih a thousand rojal ornaments, and a profusion of 
costly and glittering furniture? Time and all its 
circling hours with a swift wing are brushing it a- 
ways decay steals upon it insensibly j and a few 
years hence it shall lie in mouldering ruin and deso- 
lation. Unhappy possessor if he has no better in- 
heritance I 

What are those fine tnd elegant gardens, those 
delightful walks, those gentle ascents, and soft de- 



28 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, 8CC. OF 

dining slopes, which rise and sink the eye by turns 
to a thousand vegetable pleasures ? How lovely are 
those sweet borders, and those growing varieties of 
bloom and fruit, which recal lost paradise to mind ! 
those living parterres, which regale the sense wijh 
vital fragrancy, and make glad the sight by their 
refreshing verdure and intermingling flowery beau- 
ties ! the scythe of time is passing over them all : 
they wither, they die away, they drop and vanish 
into dust ; their duration is short ; a few months de- 
face all their yearly glories, and within a few years, 
perhaps, all these rising terras-walks, these gentle 
verging declivities, shall lose all order and elegance, 
and become a rugged heap of ruins ; those well 
distinguished borders and baterres shall be levelled 
in confusion, and thrown into common earth again. 
Unhappy man who possesses this spot cf ground, 
if he has no paradise more durable than this ! And 
no wonder that these labours of the hands of men 
should perish, when even the works of God are 
perishable. 

What are these visible heavens, these lower skies 
and this globe of earth ? They are indeed the glori- 
ous workmanship of. the Almighty; but they are 
waxing old, and waiting their period too, when the 
angel shall pronounce upon them that " time shall 
be no morei'' 

The heavens '* shall be folded up as a vesture, thi: 
elements of the lower world shall melt with fervent 
heat, and the earth| and all the works thereof} shall 



MISS ELIZA PERKINSt 29 

be burnt up with nre." May the unruinable world 
be but my portioii, and the heaven of heavens my 
inheritance, which is built for an eternal mansion 
for the sons of G j.1, these buildings shall outlive 
time and nature, and exist through unknown ages 
of felicity ! 

What have we mortals to be proud of in our 
present stale, when every human glory is so fuga- 
live and fading? Let the brightest and the best of 
us say to ourselveg, that we are but dust and vani- 
ty. 

The grave opens and reduces all to a perfect c- 
quality. Youth, health, beauty, fortune, talents, hon- 
ours, serve for a short time to distinguish one worm 
of the earth from another. But, look into the house 
appointed for all living— what a spectacle do we 
there behold ! Ye fathers and mothers of families I 
who are still so wedded to the world, whose affec- 
tions, with a sinful excess, are placed on the crea- 
ture more than on the creator, see here the hide- 
ous remains of that amiable and beloved daughter, 
once 30 fair and so gay, whose memory still wrings 
your heait and moistens your eyes^ — of that promis- 
ing boy who was the idol of your soul and the hope 
of your declining years, but who was stopt short IB 
the midst of his career, and cut oiT in the flower cf 
his a^e ! Disconsolate husband I behold the mingled 
form of that youthful spouse to whose accents of 
affection you surrendered the soul, on whose beau- 
teous face you gazed with rapture. Afflicted widow ! 



30 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, kc« OF 

see here, the husband of your youth, whose unstrung 
arms cannot yield you protection, whose dull cold 
ear can no longer listen to your soothing strains, 
whose breast once kindled with the purest fire, and 
beating wiih the best affections, is now mingled 
with the clods of the valley. <* How vain are all 
things here below 1" How uncertain and transitory 
our dearest possessions, and our purest jo-ys !— How 
careful should we be to place our affections on the 
« friend that sticketh closer than a brother," and 
who will not, like earthly friends, die and leave us. 
Hither let the man of the world also repair, and 
derive instruction from this scene— -What desolation 
do you here behold !— What profound silence reigns 
among the inhabitants of the tomb ! But this silence 
is instructive: it is eloquent. Hear you not a voice 
issuing from yonder grave and ssLyirt^-^ Number your 
daysj and apply jour hearts unto wisdom ! And, since 
such must be the lot of all living — since dust we art, 
and unto dust must return— permit me a'gain to 
ask — Why should fragile man de proud .^ 

Soon the bloo» of youth doth fade,- 
Wrinkles soon^lhe cheek invade. 
Soon the glossy *jet black hair 
Turns to white with age and care ; 
The ruby lip, the brilliant eye. 
Lose their lustre, fade and die ; 
Thus 'tis Nature speaks aloud. 
Why should fragile man be proud ? 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. Si 

The fairest form, the sweetest face * 
Must quickly yield to death's embrace? 
Must leave the light, must seek the gloom, 
Must be the tenant of the tomb ; 
No earthly king, *mid pomp and pridei 
Can turn the dart of death aside ; 
Thus 'tis nature speaks aloud, 
Why should fragile man be proud I 

The virgin fair profuse in charms, 
Whose beauty every bosom warms, 
The cottage girl and gaudy queen, 
Alike must quit this transient scene ; 
Must leave each glittering bauble here, 
In hopes to find a happier spherje ; 
Thus 'tis Nature speaks aloud, 
Why should fragile man be proud ? 

It is gain for the Christian to die, because the 
death removes him from a world of sorrow and im- 
perfection. However desirous we' are of long life, 
and however great the terrors of the grave, we must 
acknowledge that but small is the portion of pure 
and unmixed happiness which we here enjoy. Even 
the most prosperous have their share of suffering. 
Solomon, king of Israel, who enjoyed every thing 
his heart could desire under the Sun, who sought 
for happiness in power, in knowledge, in pleasure, 
in fame, and in every way which men commonly 
imagine it is to be found, yet declared that all was 



33^ MORAL raODUCTIONS, ScC. OF 

vanity and vexation of spirit. If such is the state of 
those whose <* cup runneth over,** what must be the 
condition of such as are exposed to adversity and 
subjected to the varioui catamites daily occurring 
in the humbler walks of life ? Poverty and want, 
sickness and sorrow, anxiety and dibapp©intnrient 
form a ^^ bitter draught," and in a great measure jus- 
tify the declaration of Job, «» that he would not live 
always." In the morning of our days, before we 
have experienced the cares and sorrows of the world, 
we imagine the prospect before us to be altogether 
fair and beauliful. We suppose the path of life to 
be smooth and easy, strewed with roses, where no 
thorn is found, and beset on every side with sources 
of enjoyment. But no sooner do we enter on this 
path, than we find how cgregiously we were deceive 
ed. Cares and toils, in constant succession, cloud 
©ur sky. The tender buds of hope are nipped by 
the killing frost of disappointment. The airy visions 
of youthful expectation are dissolved by the touch 
of real life. We fiod the world stored with fewer 
enjoyments than we imagined. We see that nothing 
is to be gained without labour, icil, and unceasing 
exertion. We behold around us a fleeting and tran- 
sitory scene. Our fathers are removed into the land 
oi forgeifulness, ar d leave us to prosecute our jour- 
ney alone. Old age advances, with hasty «tep^^ at- 
tended with infirmity and disease, disiiiute of enjoy- 
ment, and leaving us nothing to wish for, but that 
death would come to conclude our sorrows. 



MKS ELIZA PERKINS. 33 

IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION. 

THE christian religion is justly denominated the 
best guide to happiness, the highest, and surely the 
best consolation in life and death ; the surest support 
ot mental peace, the firmest mound against the in- 
roads office, and the most prolific mother of morali- 
ty. She operates in those secret recesses to which 
the temporal laws cannot penetrate, and where they 
cannot determine the actions of men ; she furnishes a 
reply to those questioas on which our all depends, 
and on which our contentment, our hopes, and our 
happiness is grounded ; she answers these questions : 
Whether the Supreme Being deems us worthy of his 
Almighty and merciful Providence: whether God is 
•willing to pardon our sins and whether He is our Fa- 
ther : whether Jesus is our Redeemer and Mediator 
with God ; whether he will by his spirit preserve us 
from sin, and lend us power to become virtuous ; 
whether at the close of this life,^ we shall cease to ex- 
ist ; or whether after death, we have to expect another 
life ?— But) if the christian religion is to avail us in 
these respects, then it is necessary that she should 
be free from all erroneous and superstitious ideas I 
that she should not consist of mere empty customs 
and ceremonies, or of an unfruitful belief in unintel- 
ligible things ; that she should be an entirely moral 
religion, and wholly aim at the moral improvement of 
man. ft is then also necessary that we should be ac- 
quainted with her, that we should form clear concep- 



24 MORAL PRODUCTIONS) IcC. OF 

tionsofhcr import, of her design, of her doctrines, 
precepts and promises. It is not the name, not th^e 
profession of this religion, which makes us wiser, bct« 
ter anil more happy. This religion does not operate 
on us in a preternatural manner, not like a magical 
means, without our knowledge, without our own will 
and endeavours. She operates on us only in as far as 
we are acquainted with her, reflect upon her contents, 
and know how to make use of her. We must above 
all things suffer ourselves to be led by her ; we must 
entirely at all times, in all places and circumstances, 
commit ourselves to her guidance, We must con- 
stantly think as she teaches ui to think, continually o- 
bey her commands. To sum ap the matter, we must 
with body and soul, both in life and death, belong to 
©ur faithful Saviour alone; it b our duty to app]y 
all our menial and corporeal powers, in every condi- 
tion, and in every stage of our lives, agreeably to the 
will and precepts of Jesus Christ; but not according: 
to our appetites and passions. — Then may we b« uan- 
quil and comiorted, even it the earth should quake 
and reel to its centre, and the adamantine cliffs tum- 
ble into ruins 1 Yea, even if the whole world should 
be against us — if God is on our side, who can be a. 
gainst us i 

" Man is born to trouble ►" His irregular thoughts 
and desires often agitate his spirit, aiid sink him in 
despondency. The tenure by vs'hich he holds human 
enjoyments is so precarious, that in the very moment 
cf fruition, tbcy may be wrested from him. Numer- 



MISS ELIZA PiiRKlfTS. 35 

ous are the triaU and dffliq|||ns to which he is subject 
from the unfaithfulness of incndt. from the malice of 
enemies, from the fatigue, perplexity, and disappoint* 
iticnt of worldly concerns, from the ingratitude or 
misconduct of those who hold a place in his heart, and 
from the sudden dissolation of the ties of friendship 
and affection. 

In the multitude of our sorrows, religion affords us 
consolation. Religion assures us, that, through all 
this disappointment and woe, there is a friend present 
with us, on whose affection, wisdom, power, and good- 
ness, we can perfectly rely ; and that an infinitely 
merciful an«i potrerful Protector sustains us, build- 
ing our erring footsteps, and strengthening our feeble 
spirits. He permits no affliction to approach us, but 
with some gracious and merciful purpose ; to awak- 
en us from the dangerous delusions of pleasure, to 
excite in us an earnest solicitude for our salvation, to 
reclaim u» from error, to subdue some favorite pas- 
sion, or to strengthen some grace and virtue, which 
neglect or temptation may have weakened. Subject 
to the control of this almighty guardian, all the trials 
of life are designed to establish our faith, to increase 
our humble dependence, to perfect our love and for- 
tify our patience, and to make us meet for the inher- 
itance of glory. 

Here is the refuge from trouble which religion af* 
fords. Uniting us to God through penitence and 
faith in his Son Jesus Christ, it conveys to us the ts- 
surance; that all things shall work together for our 



36 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, ScC. OF 

good. Cleansed iVom th^uilt of sin by the preci- 
ous blood and redeemed^m ils dominion by the 
grace of the Redeenaer, the sincere believer can con- 
stantly solace himself with trust and hope in his Hea- 
venly Father. When difficulties beset him ; when 
disappointment blasts his fond expectations ; when 
sorrow and affliction assail him ; he can repose all his 
concerns and griefs on the wisdom, power, and good- 
ness of his Almighty Friend. His cares are soothed; 
his griefs are allayed ; his afflictions lightened. The 
refreshing comforts of the divine favour are poured 
upon his soul, and he is filled with peace and joy. 
" The Lord is my Shepherd, 1 shall not want. The 
Lord is my light and salvation— -whom shall I fear ? 
The Lord is the strength ot my life— of whom shall 
} be afraid ? Thou art my God forever and ever \ 
thou wilt be my guide, even unto death.— -My flesh 
and my heart faileth ; hut God is the strength of my 
heart, and my portion forever.'* *' Happy is the man 
who hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope 
is ia the Lord his God !" 

If reason alone is capable of triumphing over the 
passions, it has not the power of moderating the vio- 
lence of the pain occasioned by the sacrifices it re- 
quires, because it cannot fill the dreadful void in a 
heart, which has just renounced the object of its love. 
But religion preserves us from dejeciion, by finding 
employment for the imagination which it exalts, and 
by elevating the soul. It is capable ot more than 
making amends for the affections which it eradicates. 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 57 

It imparts to piety a superabundance of pure cmo^' 
lions, and delicious sentinnents which would never be 
felt without it. Had it but this single advantage over 
philosophy, it ought to be revered and cherished as 
the inexhaustible source of all consolations. 

Religion is the only balm for a wounded spirit. It 
is the only sure staff for the weary traveller through 
this wilderness of misery and bin. What an inex- 
pressible grace does it throw over the countenance 
and actions of its sincere votaries ! It purifies, it a- 
dorns, it ennobles our nature. By it we are lifted far 
above the little considerations of an existence, short 
as the winter twilight, and unimportant as the faint 
vision of a distant star. We are led by its influencei 
to contemplate " the first good, first perfect, and first 
fair*' — and as without the aid of a telescope, the ship- 
wrecked sailor could never discern in the far off hor- 
izon the vessel that is to bring him reliefj but might 
abandon himself to despair : so without religion, 
mair's views would be confined to a narrow circle of 
melancholy incidents and thoughts ; and he might re- 
sign his mind to the dreadful idea, that the earth 
was his only home, and that death was an eternal 
sleep. But now he soars in the certainty to other 

worlds of endless duration, where he shall join his 
parents, and his friends, in the presence of a common 
God. 

Whatever absurdities may arise from the fancied 

ardors of enthusiasm, they are much less pernicious 

to the mind than the contrary extreme of coldness 



58 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, &C. C:F 

and indifference in Religion. How is it for those 
^yho profess (and perhaps sincerely) to believe with 
cntiie persuasion ihe truth of the Gospel, to declare 
that they do not pretend to frame their lives accord- 
ing to the purity of its moral precepts ! " I hope/' 
say they^ " I am guilty of no great crimes ; but the 
customs of the world in these times will not admit 
of a conduct agreeable either lo reason or revelation. 
Iknow the course of lite 1 am in is wrong ; 1 know 
that I am engrossed by the world— that I have no 
litne for reflection, nor the practice of many duties 
which 1 acknowledge to be such. But I know not 
how it is-.l do not find that I can alter my manner 
of living."— Thus they cooly and contentedly give 
themselves up to a constant course of dissipation, 
and a general worthlessness of character, which, I 
fear, is as little favourable to their happiness here 
or hereafter, as the occasional commission of crimes 
at which they would start and tremble. The habit- 
ual neglect of all that is most valuable and impor- 
tant, of children, friends, servants-of neighboura 
and dependents-, of the poor- of God-and of their 
own minds, they consider as an excusable levity, 
and satisfy themselves with laying the blame on the 
mannersof the times-yet, they profess to believe 
the immortality of the soul, and a future state of 
rewards and punishments. 

Ab, my dear friends, permit me to assure you 
^hal Religion is indeed of too much importance to 
be thus trifled with. Ask your own heart what re 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 1^ 

wards you deserve— or what kind of felicity you 
are fitted to enjoy ? Which of those faculties or af- 
fections, which heaven can be supposed to gratity, 
have you cultivated and improved ? £f| in that eter- 
nal world, the stores of knowledge should be laid 
open before you, have you preserved that thirst of 
knowledge, or that taste of truth, which is now to 
be indulged with endless information ? If, m the so* 
ciety of saints and angels, the purest benevolence 
and most cordial love is to constitute your happines*i 
where is the heart that should enjoy this delightful 
intercourse of affection ? Has yours been exercised 
and refined to a proper capacity of it during your 
state of discipline, by the energies of generous 
friendship, by the meltings of parental fondness, or 
by that union of heart and soul, that mixed exer* 
tions of perfect friendship and ineffable tenderness 
which approaches nearest (o the full satisfaction of 
our nature, in the hands of conjugal love ? Alas ! 
you scarce knew you had a heart, except when you 
felt it swell with pride, or flutter with vanity. Has 
your piety, and gratitude to the source of all good> 
been exercised and slreng tinned by constant acts of 
praise and thanksgiving ? Was it nourished by fre- 
quent meditations, and silent recollection of all the 
wonders he hath done for us, till it burst forth in fer- 
vent prayer ? 1 fear it was rather decency than de- 
votion that carried you once a week to the place of 
public worship— and for th« rest of the week your 
thoughts and time were so differently filled up, ;that 



40 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, &C. OF 

the idea of a Ruler of the universe could occur but 
seldom, and then, rather as an object of terror than of 
hope and joy. How then shall a soul, so dead to di- 
vine love, so lost to all but the most childish pursuits, 
be able to exalt and enlarge itself to a capacity of 
bliss which we are allowed to hope for, in & more in- 
timate perception of the divine presence, in contem- 
plating more nearly the perfections of our Creator, 
and in pouring out before his throne our ardent gra- 
titude, love, and adoration ? What kind of training 
is the life you have passed through, for such an im- 
mortality ? 

And dare you look down with contempt on those 
whom strong temptation from natural passions, or a 
train of unfortunate circumstances, have sunk into 
the commission of what you call great c\imes ? Dare 
you speak peace to your own heart, because by differ- 
ent circumstances you have been preserved from 
them ? Far be it from me to wish to lessen the hor- 
ror of crimes ; but yet, as the temptations to these 
are but seldom, whereas the temptalions to neglect, 
and indifference towards our duty, for ever surround 
us, it may be necessary to awaken ourselves to seme 
calculation of the proportions between such hr.bilual 
omission of all that is good, and ti.e commission of 
more henious acts of sin ; between wasting our whole 
life in what is falsely called innocent amusement, and 
disgracing it by faults which would alarm society 
more, though possioly they might injure it less. 
How amazing is the distance between the extreme 



' MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 41 

of negligence and self indulgence in surfh nominal 
christians, and the opposite excess of rigour, which 
some have unhappily thought nneritorious I between 
a Pascal (who dread&d the influence of pleasure so 
much, as to wear an iron, which he pressed into his 
side whenever he found himself taking delight in a- 
ny object of sense) and those who think life lent them 
only to be squandered away in sensual diversions, and 
the frivilous indulgence of vanity ? What a strange 
composition is man I ever diverging from the right 
line — forgetting the true end of his being— or widely 
mistaking the means that leads to it ? 

if it were indeed true, that the Supreme Being had 
made it the conditioB of our future happiness, that we 
should spend the davs of our pilgrimage here on 
earth in voluntary suffering and moitification, and a 
continual opposition to every inclination of nature, it 
would surely be worth while to conform even la 'iieie 
conditions, however rigourous ; and we see, by nu- 
merous examples, that it is not more than humi.n 
creatures are capable of, when fuUy persuaded that 
their eternal interests demanded it. But if, in fact, 
the laws of God are no other than directions for the 
belter enjoyment of our fxistcnce— if he has forbid 
us nothing that is not pernicious, and commanded no- 
thing thai is not highly advantageous to us — if, like a 
benetictnt parent, he ihiliqts neither punishment nor 
coHiitraint unnecessarily, but make* cur good the end 
of all his It jur.ctions— it will then appear much more 
extraordinary that we should perversely go on in 



42 MORAL PRODUCTIONS; 8cC. OF 

constant and acknowledged neglect of those injunc- 
lioDs. 

Is there a single pleasure worthy of a rational be- 
ing, which is not, within certain limitations, consist- 
ent with religion and virtue ? And are not the limiiSi 
within which we are permitted to enjoy them, the 
same which are prescribed by reason and nature, and 
which we cannot exceed without manifest hurt to 
ourselves or others ? It is not the 4ife of a hermit 
that is enjoined us ; it is only the life of a rational be- 
ing, formed for society, capable of continual improve- 
ment, and consequently of continual advancement in 
happiness. 

It is vain, however, to think of recalling those 
whom long habits and the established tyranny of pride 
and vanity, have almost precluded from a possibility 
of improming by advice, and in whom the very desire 
of amendment is extinguished ; but for those wlio 
are now entering on the stage of life, and who have 
their parts to cultivate, earnestly could I wish for 
the spirit of persuasion— for such a " warning voice" 
as should make itself heard amidst all the gay bustle 
that surrounds them ! it should cry to them without 
ceasing, not to be led away by the crowd of fools, 
without knowing whither they are going— not to ex- 
change real happiness for the empty name of pleas- 
ure—not to prefer fashion to immortality — and not 
fancy it possible for them to be innocent, and at the 
same time useless. 

The world on a superficial view of it, presents an 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 45 

appearance of gp^y. Deeply engaged in the pur- 
suits of gain, honour and amusement, few men could 
lament, like Calypso in Telemachus, if they were 
immortal, and doomed to remain, in everlasting youth 
and health, on this low orb, wretched as it is repre- 
sented. But as all are conscious that this is impossi- 
ble, the next endeavour is to drown thought in the 
whiiipool of dissipation. Most persons, however, 
choose to be called Christians, and would be not a 
little disgusted with the officious monitor, who should 
venture to suggest to them that, as they seldom or 
never bestow on Chdstianity the least solicitude, they 
can have no just pretentions to the name. 

But busy as men are, in pursuits foreign to piety, 
it is certain, that after a few short years, the principle 
ccrxern of the proudest, bravest and fairest of the sons 
and daughters cf Adam, will be Religion. To that 
fiiend, whom many slight in the seasons of youth, 
heaUh,^and prosperity, they will (secretly, perhaps, 
but eagerly) fly for succour, in the time of age, sor- 
row» sickness, and death. What indeed, is man in 
his most flourishing state ? What, the^jmost admir- 
ed and distinguished individual of us all, but an in* 
Arm, dependant creature, subject from the cradle, to 
ten thousand evils ; doomed gradually, often painful- 
ly, to decay and certainly, perhaps most deplorably, 
to die ? Second childhood, idiotism, insanity, palsy, 
blindness, deafness, lameness ! ye are powerful teach- 
ers to those who mark Well your ravages among 
the sons of men, once most highly distinguished for 



44 MORAL PRODUCTXONSi ScC. OF 

Strength, comeliness, gunius, aiilivthat charms the 
heart, and dazzles the imagination with trancient 
brilliancy. 

'^ Think mortal," says the poet, " what it is to die.'* 
Think also, 1 add, what it is to see those whom we 
Jove, die before us: die, agonized with pain, after lan- 
guishing with lingering disease ; to attend them with 
all the blandishments of affection^ without being able 
to contribute to their ease, or add one moment to their 
existence. Is there any partaker of human nature, 
ho^vever thoughtless, who, when he feels actually 
brought home to his own bosom, or his own familyi 
the real calamities, the sore distresses of life, will not 
be anxious to seek comfort of religion, to acquaint 
himself with God, and be at peace with him I His 
prospect in the world is forlorn and dismal. It is a 
barren land, where no water is. Though it flattered 
him in belter days, it now turns away from him in the 
hour of his utmost need. 

Religion, my dear fnends Is the true comfort ! A 
strong persuasion in a future state of existence ; a 
proposidon of obviously probable, that, setting reve- 
lation aside, every nation and people, so far as investi' 
gatioQ has reached, fot at least nearly four thousand 
years, have in some mode or other, firmly believed 
it. In vain would we reason and pretend to doubt. 

*Tis this my friend, that makes our morning bright, 

'Tis this that gilds the horror of our night. 

When wealth forsakes us, and when friends are few^ — 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 45 

When friends are faithless, or when foes pursue ; 
*Tis this that wards the blow, or stills the smart- 
Disarms affliction, or repels his dart j 
Within the breast bids purest raptures rise- 
Bids smiling conscience, spread her cloudless skies. 

Reflect much on the excellency and glory of reli- 
gion. It is a friend in adversity. When every earth- 
ly hope fails, and the soul is ready to say of all human 
helpers, ** miserable comforters are ye all ;" then re- 
ligion is a friend indeed. Are not those blessed, 
whom God blesses; safe whom he protects; and 
strong, whom he strengthens ? can any one say with 
David, «' The Lord h my refuge, 1 will not fear, 
though the earth be removed, and the mountains cast 
into the midst of the sea ;" or with Paul, " Neither 
death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor pow« 
ers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor 
heigih, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be a- 
ble to seperate us from the love of God which is in 
Christ Jesus our Lord," can any one say this, without 
being unspeakably happy I 

Through shades and solitudes profound, 
The fainiing traveller winds his way j 

Bewildring meteors glare around, 
And tempt his wandering feet astray : 

Welcome, thrice welcome, to his eye, 
The sudden moon's inspiring light, 



MORAL PHODUOTIONS) 2cC, 09 

When forth she sallies thro* the sky, 
The guardian Angel of the night I 

Thus mortals, blind and weak below 
Pursue the phantom Bliss, in vain ; 

The world's a wilderness of woe, 
And life a pilgrimage of pain ! 

Till mild RelicioN) from above, 
Descends, a sweet engaging form, 

The messenger of heavenly love, 
The bow ot promise in a storm I 

The guilty passions wing their flight, 
Sorrow, remorse, airiiction cease ; 

Religion*3 yoke is soft and light, 
And all her paths are paths of peace. 

Ambition, pride, revenge, depart. 
And folly flies her chastening rod j 

She makes the humble contrite heart 
A temple ol the living God. 

Beyond the narrow vale of time, 
Where bright celesJal ages roll* 

To scenes eternal, scenes cublime. 

She points the way and leads the soul. 

At her approach the Grave appears 
Tlie Gaie of Paradise restored 5 

Her voice the watching Chernb litars, 
A*:d drops his double- flaming swoid.^ 



MISS ELIZA. PERKIKS. 4/ 

Baptized with her renewing fire, 
May we the crown of glory gain : 

Rise when the Host of Heaven expire, 
And reign with God, forever reign I 

True Religion begins with Christ ; he is our par- 
don, peace, hope, and everlasting salvation. To sit 
under his shadow, and by faith experience the fruit 
of his passion, sweet to our taste, constitutes the 
sublime happiness of our souls : It is therefore evi» 
dent, th?t the first step to our departure from God, 
£nd our errors in llftj, begins at the cross. As by 
the cross of Christ we are brought nigh to God; 
and enjoy the sweets of fellowship with him as our 
Father; so, a neglect of the virtues of the cross 
imperceptibly obstructs us in the enjoyment of that 
high privilege. Our ('ommunion with God is car- 
ried on by faith, meditation and prayer; the essence 
of which is, the secret motion of ihe soul in peace, 
adoration, hope, love, and joy ; producing that sol* 
id satisfaction and sublime pleasure, which none but 
he that feels it knows. This experience constitutes 
our heaven upon earth. We thus walk with God. 
and never feel ourselves unhappy but when inter- 
rupted in this holy path. Whatever afHiction may 
attend us> it is in communion with God that our 
tears are wiped away, learn the design of every ad. 
verse providence, and receive grace to help in time 
of need. 

That a person who, through grace, has enjoyed 



48 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, ScC. OF 

the rich manifestations of a Saviour's smilesi and 
haih been numbered with Chriiii's visible Hock, may 
be liable to fall into templaiion, lose the bloom of 
his profession, and the comforts of his soul, for a 
season, is a trt:th so evident in the scriptures, and 
so convicting in the conscience, as at once demands 
our assent and our tears. The loss of sensible com- 
munion with God boon discovers itself in the dispo- 
sition of the mind, and in the actions of the life* 
The Word of the Lord was precious in those days 
when the Christian lived near to God: now it is 
read with indifference, without faith, without prayer, 
without a desire to find Christ, and a deietminaiiou 
to follow his precepts or embrace his promises. In 
the discharge of domestic duties, the temper is al- 
tered ; morning and evening prayer becomes formal ; 
and the imperfections of servants and children are 
passed over without reproof, because the conscience 
is an accuser of its own sin. Religious conversation, 
if held at all, is not upon the beauties of Christj 
the riches of grace, or the experience of the heart ; 
but, on speculative points, the gift of ministers, the 
misfortunate miscarriages of others, or the decline 
of Religion, without producing one effort to revive 
it in themselves or others. This spititual decline 
of heart paves the way fcr a mcie general neglect 
of the means of grace. 

But, revolting christian, remeirib<=r, the sin of 
ycur departure from Gcd has been committed vviiU 
your eyes open.—- What ingraiUude is this to God 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 49 

for his love — to Christ for his salvation — and to the 
Blessed Spirit for his instrucuon and consolation !— 
Did you not solemnly devote yourself to be the 
Lord's at your conversion ? and have you not fre- 
quently renewed this surrender in private, at your 
baptism, and at the Lord's Supper— What evil has 
the Lord done unto you I and wherein has he weari- 
ed you ? Were not his paths pleasant, his promises 
sweet, and his smiles charming? In how many 
^:cenes of distress has he delivered you ? And in the 
bounty of his providence, and the riches of his 
grace, how often has he exceeded yuur highest ex- 
pectations? What griefs does your present cold- 
ness of heart and disobedience of life create in the 
breast of those who are the friends of Christ, and 
wlio knew you when a humble, lively, happy chris- 
tian ? — Neither forget the discouragements which 
you give to the lambs of the flock who arg seeking 
the paths of the Lord ; and the advantage you offer 
the enemies of the gospel to impeach its virtues.-*- 
Surely you cannot be insensible what injury you do 
your own souls. Are you as happy now as when 
you delighted beneath the Shepherd's care, and fed 
in the rich pasture of his grace ? O ! no. Think, 
for a moment, wene temptations nov/ to assail you, 
how awfully you might fall, and sink deeper inco 
sin and misery ?— If death was now to advancei 
where is your certain hope of future bliss ? Can you 
shut your eyes, harden your heart, pursue in sin, 
ard abandon the Lord of life ? God forbid I There 
5 



50 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, &C. OF 

is a certain something within your breast that fills 
you with shame, produces a tear, and makes you 
cry '' O that it were with me as in months past !■— 
Lord turn unto me, have mercy upon me, heal my 
backslidings, let me once more find the way to thine 
arms, and enjoy that peace 1 felt when first 1 knew 
thy love." 

Virtue and Religion are the two permanent pillars 
which support the fabrick of temporal enjoyments 
and eternal felicity. Human nature wants something 
more substantial than mere external objects to con- 
stitute happiness ; and the possession of these excel- 
lencies will render life pleasing in every circum- 
stance, it is not the situation we are in which rec;u- 
lates the feelings. Virtue and Religion must actu- 
ate the heart or tranquility will never be enjoyed. 
The contemplations of a pure mind, and the reflec- 
tions of an approving conscience, are ingredients suf- 
ficient to form a heaven on earth and secure eternal 
pleasures in the realms of perfection. What can af* 
ford more sublime enjoyment, then reflections on that 
Being who is the friend and guardian of all mankind ; 
Religion is the soui^e which directs the imagination 
to conception oi the charms in that celestial world 
where God our parent dwells and where complete 
happiness is enjujed in its refined oiiginal purity. It 
will be acknowlec'ged that the youthful mind is most 
calculated to imbibe virtuous precepts. Impressions 
received when young, are not often eradicated when 
maturer years direct the understanding. And why 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS, ^^ 

is it not then the most suitable season to form a sys- 
tem of happiness which will accompany us through 
life, nor forsake us when we die ? — 

What can afford a more delightful prospect, than a 
youth devoting his early Ufe,his undisturbed thoughts, 
to the pursuUs of religion I — And how rarely are we 
gratified with such a scene ? Melancholy truth ! that 
so many who call themselves christians should shun 
the paths of peace. 

Virtue is certainly preferable to error, even in this 
frail state, were we sure no future rewards would be 
conferred. But if we extend our views beyond the 
boundaries of this comfortless world, what superior 
blessings will be the effects of a life devoted to piety 
and religion ! Wiih such inducements, such positive 
assurances as these how inconsistent is man not to at- 
tend to the dictates and injunctionsof such a heaven- 
like institution. Some cautiously avoid religion 
when young through fear of being ridiculed by their 
acquaintances for being serious. Are we ashamed lo 
confess our love for that Fountain from whence 
streams of every comfort flow ?— Are we unwilling 
to be happy ? Religion does not indeed preclude any 
satisfactory enjoyment ;— It leads us to most honour- 
able and praiseworthy gratifications that vain nature 
can bestow, or that immaculate heaven can offer — 
Sociability, politeness, benevolence and cheerfulness, 
are all friends to virtue and religionj Nothing can 
be said by the most puerile and gay, to repel or dis- 
courage such a laudable pursuiti Prejudice and su- 



51 MORAL PRODUCTIONS; 8CC. OF 

perstition are clouds which do not brood over the i*. 
deas of a religious man; they are the offsprings of 
ignorance : But religion dispels these gloomy vap^ 
ours, and illuminates the understanding. It consoles 
the aching heart of the afflicted, reconciles the unhap- 
py to their misfortunes. The grieved parent who has 
buried his earthly comfort, his darling child, in the bo- 
som of the valley, is comforted and even cheered, by, 
the flattering persuasions of religion. He is assure^ 
by it, that if he walks in virtue's ways, he shall revisit 
bis beloved offspring in that blessed place, where- 
dwells every felicity, and an antidote for every cara 
and painful sensation. 

Christianity supplies every deficiency of human na. 
ture ; satisfies every real want, and gratifies every- 
leasonkble desire. What are the real wants and de- 
sires of the pioub' heart ? We arc ignorant, bewildev- 
(d creatures, and need one to instruct and guide us 
— Christ is the li^ht of the world and will lead us in 
paths of righteousness. We arc guilty creatures , and 
need forgiveness. In Him we have forgiveness of 
our sins. Wc are feeble and helpless, and need sup- 
port and assistance ; his grace is sufficient 'for us. 
We arc subjected to man/ afflictions, and want con* 
solation under them ; and in Him we have strong con- 
solation. We must die, and wish to Know whether 
we shall survive the grave.— Christ has declared, in 
language suited to the dignity of his character, " I am 
the resurrection and the life ; He that beleiveth on me 
sliall not die forever. — ^' Because 1 live, ye shall live 



MISS ELlZil PERKINS. $3 

also." He hath brought life and immortality arito light 
through his gospel. Who, on this representation of 
the benefits of the gospel, simple as it is, are not ready 
to exclaim, *'» Glory to God in the hip;'he^t, because 
there is peace on earth and good will towards m^t^; 
Thanks be to God for his unspeakable ^ift»" 

May we embrace this gospel with grateful and ar- 
dent affection, as the clearest display of the Ibve of 
God which passeih knowledge and which will fiLnally 
accomplish its grand desigtl, completely destroy all 
the works of the devil ; vanquish sin and death ; erase 
all the unhappy efFeots of man's apostacy, and restore 
him to holiness and happiness. 

False ideas may be entertained of Religion ; false 
and imperfect conceptions of Virtue have often pre- 
vailed in the world. But to True Religion there be- 
longs no sullen gloom; no melancholy austerity, ten- 
ding to witlulrav/ men from humane society, or to 
diminish the exertions of active virtue. On the con- 
trary, the religious principle, rightly understood, not 
only unites wiih all such virtues, but supports, forti- 
fies, and confirms them. It is so far from obscuring 
the lustre of a character,that it heightens and ennobles 
it. It adds to all the moral virtues a venerable and 
authoritative dii^nity. It renders the virtuous char- 
acter more aueui^t. To the decorations of a palace, 
it joins the majesty of a temple. 

Religion prepares the mind of man for all the events 
of this inconstant state, and instructs him in the na* 
ture of true happiness ; early weans him froni an un- 



54 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, 8cC. OF 

due love of the world ; afflictions do not attack him 
by surprise, and therefore do not overwhelm him. 
He is equipped for the storm, as well as the calm, in 
this dubious navigation of life. He is not overcome 
by diiappointment, when that which is mortal dies : 
ifhen that which is mutual begins to change, and 
when that which he knew to be transient, passes away. 

Religion not only purines; but also fortifies the 
heart ; so that the devout man is neither lifted up by, 
success, nor enervated by sensibility ; he meets the 
changes in his lot without unmanly dejection. He is 
enured to temperance and restraint. He has learned 
firmness and self-command. He is accustomed to 
look up to Supreme Providence, not with reverence 
only, but with trust and hope. 

In prosperity he cultivates his mind ; stores it with , 
useful knowledge, with good principles, and virtuous, 
dispositions. The resources remain entire, when the 
day of trouble comes. His chief pleasures are always 
of the calm, innocent and temperate kind, and over 
those, the charges of the world have the least power. 
His mind is a kingdom to him, and lie can never aJt 
^oyit. 

O blest Religion, heav'niy fair .^ 

Thy kind thy healing power, 
Can, sweeten pain, and soften care, 

And gild each gloomy hour. 

'Tis thou can'st make the heathen bless'dj 
And make their darkness light, 



MISS ELIZA Perkins; BS. 

Gheer'd by thy blessings^ see them rise, 
To hope, to life and light. 

*Tis thou can'st sooth their troubled soul, 

In slavery, woe, and pain ; 
And Afric's sons with grateful joy, 

The sacred peace shall gain I 

When dismal thoughts, and boding fears^ 

The trembling heart invade ; 
And all the face of nature wears 

An universal shade t 

Thy sacred dictates can assuage, 

The tempest of the soul ; 
And ev'ry fear shall loose its ragCf 

At ihy divine controuL 

Through life's bewilder'd darksome way, 

Thy hand unerring leads ; 
And o'er the path, thy heav'nly ray, 

A cheering lustre sheds. 

When feeble reason^ tir'd and blind. 

Sinks helpless and afraid ; 
Thou blest supporter of the mind^ 

IIovv powerful is thy aid! 

Q let my heart confess thy pow'r 

And find thy sweet relief ; 
T:o brighten ev'ry gloofny hour. 

And soften ev'ry grief.„ 



55 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, ScC. OF 

LOVE TO GOD. 

« Talk they of morals ? O thou bleeding Love ! 
Thou maker of new morals to mankind, 
The grand morality is love of THEE !** 

THE blessed God is our most gracious Prcser* 
ver and Benefactor, and most justly claims our 
warmest and best affections. He has supported and 
protected us ever since we have been in existence. 
He constantly follows us with more than a fathers 
tenderness and compassion. He feeds and clothes 
us; he guides and guards us. Who among us can 
narrie the day, the hour, or moment, in which he 
has not been sustained by the arm of God, shielded 
by his providence, and fostered by his bounty ? His 
mercies are far more numerous than our moments. 
And can we withhold our hearts from such a Pre- 
server and Benefactor as this ? Shall the numberless 
and constantly repealed blessings which he showers 
down upon us, leave us still unpenetrated, unmelt- 
ed, insensible, unthankful ? Shall the favors with 
which he loads us every moment, be every moment 
prostituted to his dishonor ? No 1 while my life is 
spared by iiis patience, and comforted by his love, 
never may I cease to praise him for his unbounded 
goodness. 

Love to God is the essence of personal religion ; 
without it txiC most splendid profession is unsatisfy- 
ing and vain. From the natural relation which sub- 
sists between God and the creature, he has a right 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 5T' 

io demand our affections. When the Almighty 
formed man, he enrichcrl his soul with a propensity 
to love ; and upon the exercise of this passion the 
basis of human happiness was formed. This claim 
is consistent with the honour of Godj and the inter- 
est of his creature^ and is supported by an holy and 
an iifl-xibie law; the tenor of which is, Thou shalt 
love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all 
thy soul, and with all thy strength. Let the uncon- 
verted apply this to their own hearts, and ask^ 
** Have we loved the Lord with all our heart, with 
all our soul, and with all our strength ?** Surely 
they have not. This view of human nature calls 
fjr deep humiliation, Not to love God is to be 
destitutp of a pure fountain of happiness, and to 
be exposed to the awfui penalty of death, annex* 
ed to the law of our Sovereign. Glory be to God, 
that GRACE has restored what nature has lost ! 

He that enjoys but the smallest degree of love to 
God, though he may not be able to recite any re- 
markable circumstances in his conversion, is able 
to tell you that there was a time when he did not 
know nor love God ; and what little he now enjoys 
is the fruit of great grace. Thus, ive love God de* 
cjitse he Jirst loved tis, sent his Son to die for us, 
and then gave us his Spirit, to unite our hearts 
in love to himself, bearing testimony that unless 
God had thus loved us we never should have been 
restored to enjoy the sweets of love to him. 

That heart which reviews.its own native wretch- 



St MORAL PRODUCTIONS, 8cC. OF 

edness by transgression, contemplates the boundless 
love of God in his salvation, and is brought nigh, 
by the blood of Christ, to enjoy the smiles of the 
Everlasting Father, remembers that he is not his 
cnvn but bought with a price. He approaches the 
Lord by faith and prayer, and adopts the language 
of David : '^ Into thine hand I commit my »pirit> for 
thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth." In 
the retired chamber, at the water of baptism, at 
the gates of Zion, and at the table of (he Lord, the 
Christian, in lively emotions of heart, resigns him» 
self to be the Lord's for ever : Xo part of reveaU 
ed truth but he receives in the love of it ; no com- 
mand which dropped from his Saviour's lips, wheth- 
er for private or public obedience, but is embraced 
with affection; no cross, no sufi^jiing, but what he 
cheerfully welcomes; knowing that the many wa- 
ters of alflictioii cannot quench thefjameof his love 
to God, neither can the floods of temptations drown 
it* God will ever remain ibe undeviating Friend 
and Supporter of all christisins who honour and o- 
bey him, although for nis own best and wise pur- 
poses, he conceals fi cm ihcni the knowledge of fu- 
ture events ct time — 

<• Great God ! I would not ask to see 
What in Futuriiy shall be \\ 
if light and bliss attend my days, 
Then let my future hours be praise. 
Is darkness and distress my share I 



MISS ELraA PERKINS. 59 

Then let me trust thy guardian care : 

Enough for me, if love divine 

At length through every cloud shall shine.'^ 

Man, by transgression, hath prepared for himself 
a thorny, tempestuous passage through life. It hath, 
however, pleased- the Almighty to draw a kind of veil 
to conceal from man the certain knowledge of those 
various and successive events of linrje, ihe immediate 
prospect of whicli would crush the soul in deep des- 
pair. No man can wisely boast of to morrow ; we 
know not what a day may bring forth ; no, nor even a 
moment, or tho twinkling of the eye ;— such short 
tranfeilions of time, are big with the most important 
events. 

Could the merchant foresee the obstructions and 
the losses attending his eager efforts in trade ; or the 
husbandman anticipate the blasts that so often attend 
the labour of his hi^nds, the springs of industry would 
immediately fail, and society at large become truly 
necessitous. Who would exult in forming the pleas- 
ing connections of social life, were we to know be- 
lore-hand the blasts of friendship, the assfiults of dis- 
ease, or the period when death would tear from our 
embraces the objects of our esteem, and lay them in 
the recess of corruption ?- Were it possible for a 
man to ascertain, with precision, the moment, the 
place, the circumstances thai should be destined for 
his own death, what perpetual anxiety and torment- 
ing fear would rage in his breast, and totally render 



60 MORAL PRODUCTIONS) &C. OF 

himself incompetent to discharge the duties of public 
or private life ! Did sucli fore-knowledge pervade 
the mind of man, childhood and youth vv&uhl bear the 
sorrows of old age ; the powers of genius would fail; 
art be imim proved ; and naiure herself unexplored. 
How little does the busy worldiin^ rcMect on his ob- 
ligation to infinite goodness, for his abiiky to perform 
the duties of bis station, and that the uncertainty of 
future events demands his constnnt dependence upon 
the pleasure of the Aimighty ! Those whose minds 
lire directed to the Siipitme* know, that the provi- 
dence of Gcd is a mysteiy to oian in all ages* It is 
as the bud vvhich gradually and inipcjcc piibly ?.rises 
into flower, and then emits its richcFt fragrance, it 
is a second bible ; every day ar,d evtiy moment, like 
the several leaves ol the sacrtd volume, prcfenting 
scmeiliing new and asionibbing to the intelligent ob- 
server. 

If the observations now made as they relate to men 
in common life^ be pronounced just, 1 may venture to 
add, that the wisdom and goodness of God, in with- 
holding the knowledge of future events, is more high- 
ly esteemed by the real Christian than by those whose 
habit cf dissipation deprives them of an ability to ob- 
serve the dispcnf^aiions of the Almighty. 11 God, in 
the early part of the Chiistian*s life, had uncovered 
the great deep of the heart ; exposed the secret evils 
that lodge whhin it ; cr had given the good man a 
viewof the imperfections, disappointments, tempta- 
tions, crosses, and sorrows that awaited him^ ht)w 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 61 

would his soul have trembled at the awful prospecti 
and bowed himself to the very dust of the earth ! 
The Christian sometimes ascends the mount of con- 
templation ; surveys the map of his past experience; 
remembers the way which the Lord his God hath led 
him; and in the review, his soul is filled with pro- 
found astonishment ! So many winding, thorny 
paths,— seas of tribulation, — dreary deserts, — moun- 
tains of difficulty, — ^ valleys of humiliation ! My God I 
says he, and drops the silent tear, can I have passed 
through such ways as these ? Is it possible ! Sure- 
ly had I known the path, my feet had never made the 
choice. It was thou, my God, my Saviour, and my 
Guide, that safely brought me through ; nor can I 
now distrust thy future care. Secure beneath thy 
sacred wrings I shall pass my fleeting days ; finish my 
course with joy; walk through the shades of death, 
and mount to Zion*s hill above, to celebrate thy 
praise ! 

When we say to God, that we love him with all 
our heart, 'tis often a mere form of words, without 
trudi or meaning. Men learn it when they are 
young, and they continue to use it when they are 
grown up, without thi^^king of what they say. To 
love God, is to have no other will but his ! to keep 
faithfully his law, and have in abhorrence all viola- 
tion of it. To love God, is to love what Christ 
loved, poverty, humiliations, and sufferings; it is 
to hate what he hated, the vvcild and its vanities: 
can we be said to love an object which we do not 



62 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, &C. OF 

desire to resemble ? To love God, is to desire to 
coHverse with him, to wish to go to him, to sigh and 
languish after him. That is but a feigned love, 
which does not desire to see the Beloved, 

Thou art the Way— and he who sighs. 

Amid this starless waste of woe. 
To find a pathway to the skies, 

A light from heaven's eternal glow- 
By thee must come, thou gate of love, 

Through which the saints undoubted trod ; 
Till faith discovers, like the dove. 

An ark, a resting place in God. 

Thou art the Truth— whose steady day 

Shines on through earthly blight and bloom; 
The pure the everlasting ray, 

The lamp that shines e'en in the tomb ; 
The light that out of darkness springs. 

And guideth those that blindly go ; 
The word whose precious radiance flings 

Its lustre upon all below. 

Thou art the Life— the blessed Well, 

With living waters gushing o'er, 
Which those that drink shall ever dwell 

Where sin and thirst are known no more; 
Thou art the mystick pillar giv'n, 

Our lamp by night, our light by day ; 
Thou art the sacred Bread from Heav'n ; 

Thou art the Life— the Truth— the Way. 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS, ^S 

Our Lord came to bring fire upon the earthy and 
desired that fire might overspread it. Yet men live 
in a deadly coldness and indifference. They love 
money, buildings and titles; they love even the 
meanest and most contemptible things ; but divine 
love rarely finds a place in their hearts. Do thoui 
O Lord, vindicate thy right in us, notwithstanding 
our infidelities : let the fire of thy love extinguish 
all other fires. What can we see lovely out of thee, 
which is not to be found in its full perfection in 
thee, O ! thou fountain of all good ! Grant us but 
the grace to love thee, and we shall then lore thee 
only, thee eternally. 

Can we know Thee, and not love Thee, Thou 
who surpasses all that created nature can compre- 
hend, in beauty, in grateness, in power, in good- 
ness, in liberality, in magnificence, in every kind 
of perfection, and (which most nearly affects me) 
in love for me I It should seem, that an awful re- 
ference, and the distance there is between us, should 
stop me: but thou permittest me, thou command- 
est me to love thee. 

What I shall it be said, that vain lovers here be* 
low carry their extravagant passion to an excess of 
delicacy ; and art thou to be loved but feebly, and 
with limitation ? No, my God, profane love ought 
not to excel the divine. Shew what thou canst do 
in a heart wholly devoted to thee, thou hast full ac- 
cess to it, thou knowest all its springs, and what 
thy grace is capable of exciting in it. Thou ex- 



64 MORAL PRODUCTIONS; ScC. OF 

peclest only consent, and the surrender of my free 
will. I give them both to thee more often than 
the day. Accept them, O Lord, and exert in them 
thy divine power : Poor and feeble creature as I 
am, I have nothing to give thee, but my love. Do 
thou increase it, O Lord, and make it worthy of 
thee. O that 1 were capable of doing great things 
lor thy sake ! O that I had some great sacrifice to 
make to thee ! But all that I can do is nothing. 
On the bed of sickness it is thee alone that has com- 
forted and sustained me, and under my many severe 
afflictions hast enabled me to say— Lord thj will 
and not mine be done, 

THE Lord is my Shepherd, my guardian and guide ; 
"Whatsoever I want he will kindly provide : 
Ever since I was born, il is he that hath crown'd 
The life that he gave me with blessings all round : 
While yet on the breast, a poor iniant 1 hung. 
E'er lime had unlocsen'd the strings of my tongue, 
He gave me the help, which 1 could not then ask ; 
Now therefore to thank him shall be my tongues task. 

Thro* my eenderest years, with as tender a care, 
My soul like a lamb, in his bosom he bare, 
To the brook he would lead me whene'er I had need. 
And point out the pasture where best i might feed. 
No harm could approach me for he was my shield, 
From the fowls of the air, and the beasts of the field ; 
The wolf to devour me, would often time prowl, 
But the Lord was my Shepherd, and guarded my soul. 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 65 

Whensoever at a distaace, he sees me afraid, 
He skips o'er tiie mountains, and comes to my a'uU 
Then leads me back gently, and bids me abide, 
in the midst ot his ilock, and feed close by his side. 
How safe in his keeping, how happy and free, 
Could I always remain, where he bids me to be, 
Yea, blest are the people, and happy thrice told, 
That obey the Lord's voice and abide in his fold; 

The fold it is full and the pasture is green, 
All is friendship and love, and no enemy seen, 
There the Lord dwells amongst us, upon his own hill, 
With the flocks all around him awaiting his will. 
Himself in the midst with a provident eye, 
Regarding our wants and procuring supply. 
An abundance springs up of each nourishing budj^ 
And we gather his gifts and are filled with good. 

At his voice or example, we move or we stay, 
For the Lord is himself both our leader and vvay, 
The hills smoak with Incense where'er he hath trod. 
And a sacred prefume shews the footsteps of God. 
While blest with his presence the vallies beneath, 
A sweet smelling savour incessantly breathe. 
The delight is renewed of each sensible thing, 
And behold in their bloom all the beauties of spiing. 

Or if a quite difTerent scene he prepare. 
And \ve march thro* the wilderness barren and bare^ 
Ey his wonderful works we see plainly enough, 
That the earth is the Lords and the fullness thereof^ 
6« 



66 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, 8cC. OF 

If we hunger and thirst, and are ready to faint, 
A relief in due season prevents our complaint ; 
The rain at his word brings us food from the sky, 
And racks become rivers when we are adry. 

From the fruitfulest hiil, or the barrenest rock, 
The Lord hath made all for the sake of his flock, 
And the flock in return the Lord always confess 
In plenty Iheir joy, their hope in distress. 
He beholds in our welfare, his glory display'd, 
And we find ourselves blest, in obedience repaid, 
With a cheerful regard, we attend to his ways. 
Our attention is prayer, and our cheerfulness praise. 

The Lord is my shepherd, what then shall 1 fear. 
What dangers can frighten nie whilst he is near ? 
Nor when the time calls me, to walk through the vale, 
Of the shadow of Death shall my heart ever fail, 
Tho* afraid of myself, to persue the dark way. 
Thy rod and thy staff be my comfoit and stay ; 
For I know on thy guidance when once it is past. 
To a fountain of life it will bring me at last. 

The Lord has become, my salvation and song, 

His blessings shall follow me all the life long ; 

Whatsoever condition he places me in, 

1 am sure 'tis the best it could ever have been. 

For the Lord he is good, and his mercies are sjre^ 

He only afTucts me, in order to cure ; 

The Lord will 1 praise while 1 have my breath, 

Be content in sickness, and resigned at my death. 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 6? 

HEAVEI^, 

THE rose is sweetj but it is surrounded with 
thorns: the lily of the valley is fragrant, but it springs 
up amongst the brambles. The spring is pleasant) 
but it is soon past : the summer is bright, but the win- 
ter destroys its beauty. The rainbow is very glori- 
ous, but it soon vanishes away : life is good, but it is 
soon swallowed up in death. 

There is a land where the roses are without thorns, 
where the flowers are not mixed with brambles. In 
that land, there is eternal springs, and light without 
any cloud. The tree of life grows in the midst 
thereof; rivers of pleasure are there, and flowers that 
never fade. Myriads of happy spirits are there, and 
surround the throne of GOD with a perpetual hymn. 
The angels with their golden harps sing praises con- 
tinually, and the cherubims fly on wings of fire!— 
This country is Heaven : it is the country of those 
that are good : and nothing that is wicked must in-* 
habit there. The toad must not spit its venom a- 
mongst lurtle-doves ; nor the poisonous henbane 
grow amongst sweet flowers. Neither must any one 
that does ill enter into that good land. 

This earth is pleasant, for it is God*s earth, and it 
is filled with many delightful things. But that coun- 
try is far better : there we shall not grieve any more ;. 
there the cold of winter shall not wither us, nor the 
heats of summer scorch us. In that country there 
ar^ no wars nor quarrels, but all love one, another 
with dear love. 



68 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, ScC. OF 

When our parents and friends did and are laid in 
the cold ground, we see them here no more ; but 
there we shall embrace then^ again, and live with 
them, and be separated no more. There we shall 
meet all good men, whom we read of in holy books. 
There we shall see Abraham, the called of God, the 
father of the faithful ; and Moses after his long wan« 
derings in the Arabian desert ; and Elijah, the prophet 
of God ; Daniel, who escaped the lion's den ; and there 
the son of Jesse, the shepherd king, the sweet singer 
of Israel. They lored God on earth ; they praised 
him on earth ; but in that country they will praise him 
better, and love him more. 

There we shall see Jesus, who is gone before us to 
that happy place ; and there we shall behold the glo- 
ry of the high God. We cannot see him here, but 
we will see him there. We must be now on earth, 
but we will often think on heaven. The happy land 
is our home : we are to be here but for a little while, 
and there for ever, even for eternal ages. 

There is a svteet enthusiastic melancholy that 
sometimes steals upon the soul— even thought itself 
is for a while suspended, and every scene in nature 
seems to wear an image of the mind. How delight- 
ful are the sensations at such a time ! though felt, they 
cannot be descri'jed ; it is a kind ot anticipation of 
those pleasures we are taught to expect hereafter ; 
the soul seems entirely abstracted from every earthly 
idea, wrapped up in the contemplation of future hap- 
piness. Ask yourself in one of these monients what 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 69 

there is in this world worth a thought; and you will 
answer, nothing : its sublunary pleasure is but a 
dream, and vanishes like a shadow. This should 
convince us more than any thing, that there is a future 
state. — Our souls are formed to taste higher delights, 
more refined sent:ations than any thing in this life can 
excite ; and something from within tells us we shall 
one day enjoy thwm ; else why these ideas ? why these 
expectations ? of what use would be those noble sen- 
timents, with which the mind is semetimes impress* 
ed, if we were only to act an insignificant part for a 
few years in this life, and then sink into nothing ? 
No, there must be a future state, and that immortal ! 
'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter, and 
intimates eternity to man. 

" This world is all a fleeting show.'* 

There is an hour of peaceful rest, 
To mourning wand'iers given ; 
There is a tear for souls distrcst 
A balm for every wounded breast'— 
'Tis found above — in Heaven. 

There is a soft, a downy bed, 

'Tis fair as breath of even ; 

A couch for weary mortals spread. 

Where they may rest the aching head 

And find repose in Heaven, 

There is a house tor weeping souls, 
By sin aiid sorrow driven j 



70 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, ScC. OF 

When tost on life's tempestuous shoals, 
When storms arise and ocean rolls, 
And all is dread— but Heaven ! 

There faith lifts up the tearful eye, 
The heart with anguish riven ; 
And views the tempest passing by, 
The evening shadows quickly fly 
And all serene in— ^Heaven. 

There fragrant flowers immortal bloom. 
And joys supreme are given ; 
There rays divine, disperse ihe gloom, 
Beyond the confines cf the tomb, 
Appears the dawn of Heaven ! — 



ADDRESS TO YOUTH. 

My Dear Young Friends, 

WHILE I see so many of your number, living 
without affording the least evidence that you are the 
children of God, fast hastening to the eternal world, 
1 cannot forbear calling unto those of you who are yet 
impenitent, to stop a moment and consider, while I 
endeavour to place before you a few motives, to in- 
duce you to attend immediately to your everlasting 
interest. 

Consider that your Christian friends earnestly de- 
sire your salvation. They see your danger. They 
know and feel, that unless your hearts are renewed 
by the grace of God, unless you become new crea. 
lures, your souls, must be lost. It is with pain that 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 71 

tliey see you in the pursuit of sinful pleasures, trifling 
away your precious time, and treasuring up wrath a» 
gainst the day of wrath) preparing for a more aggra- 
vated doom. They exhort you, they weep and pray 
for y©u night and day ; they long to rejoice over youi 
as the new-born heirs of heaven* And my dear 
friends, must they exhort, must they weep, must they 
pray, and all in vain ? O do not despise their reproof. 
Let them embrace you as children, and fellow heirs 
of the grace of life. Let their hearts be made glad, 
by seeing you turning from your childish follies, and 
accepting the oiTers of eternal life. 

The Angels in heaven desire your salvation. YeS| 
and their golden harps are now tuned to raise louder 
the song of joy for one of you that will repent. Will 
you not be the first to cause the arches of heaven to 
re-echo, that another wanderer has returned, that a- 
nother lost s esp is found? Give Christ the affec- 
tions of your heart, and angels will be to you minis- 
tering spirits, nill succour and relieve you when in 
trouble, and at death will attend you to iJ:iory. Shall 
the holy angels long for your salvation, and will you 
give yourselves no concern about it ? But there is 
yet a more exalted Being who desires your salvation ; 
for, 

Christ himself (iesires it. His ministry and suffer- 
ings, while on earth, establishthis truth. '' He was 
a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief,** that 
you might find a way of escape from the wrath to 
come. He declares that " he is not willing that any 



73 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, ScC» OF 

should perish,but that all should come to repentance." 
" As I live, sdith the Lord God, 1 have no pleasure 
in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked turn 
froni his way and live. Turn ye, turn ye, for why 
"wiil ye die V His agony hi the garden, and his suf- 
ferings on the cross, exhibit the strongest proofs, that 
he desires the salvation ot your souls. He calls you 
by his Word) by his Providence, and by his Spirit ; 
and must he call in vain ? Will you not listen, my 
dear friends, to his gracious offer ? shall he desire 
that you may be holy, and in that way happy, and you 
still continue to travel, unconcerned, in the ways of 
rebellion, down to ruin ? Is it nothing to you, that 
the hill of Calvary was clothed with the precious 
blood of the Son of God ; that he there bore the wrath 
of Jehovah for your sins ? O heart of adamant, that 
will not be moved by such condcscention, suffering 
and love I O stupid soul, that can behold with indif- 
ference the '* Son of God in tears,'* offering himself a 
sacrifice, for the redemption of guilty rebellious man I 

Yes, dear youth, your Christian friends, the Angels 
in heaven, and Christ himself, all desire your salva» _ 
tion ; and how will you regard these desires ? Shall 
they be gratified, or will you still turn a deaf ear ? 
Ah, no, 1 cannot indulge the thought, that you, my 
dear friends, will treat the desires of such beings wiih 
total indifference, while your own best good is their 
ultimate object. 

Consider the glories of heaven. Of these we can 
have but a faint conception, while sojourning in bodies 



MISS :bliza ferkins. fs 

of clay. That heaven is a place of unalloyed happi- 
ness and ineffable glory, the Scriptures plainly assert. 
*' There is the throne of God and the Lamb, with the 
pure river of water of life proceeding therefrom ; and 
there saints and angels unite in ascribing " glory and 
honour., dominion and power, to him that sitteth on 
the throne, and to the Lamb for ever." There yoUr 
departed Christian friends are at this moment ming- 
ling their voices with the heavenly host, in shouting 
Alleluiah, Alleluiah, for the Lord God Omnipotent 
reigneth.*' There they unite in crying " holy, holy | 
holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is 
to come." It is there, dear youth, that the humble 
penitent at last arrives. There is the consummation 
of ail his happiness. There he takes his fill of plea- 
sure, for ever to increase with his capacity ; and it is 
there that the angels wait to rejoice at your conver- 
sion. 

The Lt)rd Jesus now looks upon you and pities 
you. Look upon yourselves, think of your sinful 
feelings, and thoughts, and conduct — think how sin- 
ful you have been to forget and disobey God — think 
how impossible it wiil be for you to answer one of 
a thousand of your transgressions— -think with what 
shame arui (error you vtould stand before the bar 
of GqU uiChoui a Saviour. Compare your feeling 
and your conduct viih the life of the holy Jesus. 
Can you count the number, can you measure the 
ill desert, can you bear the burden of your sins ? 
Look where you willj can you find a friend to bear 
7 



74 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, &C. OF 

this heavy load ( Ask your father ; ask your loving 
mother. Alas ! they find their own sins too heavy 
to be borne. They love you, but they cannot help 
you. All they can do, is, to lead you onward to the 
Almighty Saviour* To whom will you go but to 
Him ? He has the words of eternal life. 

Yes, my dear young friends, your only security is 
to come to Jesus { to enter the kingdom of heav- 
en. How often have you been put to shame before 
your parents, when they have called you to account 
for your faults. Do you think if you were now to 
die, you could stand shameless and fearless at the 
bar of God ? Could you make a sufficient excuse 
for all your faults ? Dare you within five minutes 
present yourselves to answer for your sins before 
the Judge, and to take the sentence for an endless 
eternity ? Oh think of the endlessness of eternity ; 
of the endlessness of eternal sorrow ? Would you 
not rather have " peace with God through our Lord 
Jesus Christ V* Would you not rather be found en- 
circled within the walls of his kingdom, and there 
safely and jovfully spend eternity, an endless eter- 
nity, as the children of God, and equal to the An- 

gels." 

Attend to the counsels of heavenly wisdom, and 
heavenly love. Seriously ponder some of those num* 
berless arguments which invite and urge you io give 
jour hearts to God. Consider, in the first place, that 
God himselt enjoins this on jow, s^vy particularly and 
expressly. He enjoins it with all the authority of a 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 75 

Sovereign, and all the tenderness of a Father. How 
solemn and affectionate the command--** Remember 
now thy Creator, in the days of thy youih while the 
evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, in which 
thoa shalt say, I have no pleasure in them." *' Comu 
ye children,'* says David, speaking in the name, and 
by the authority of God ; *' hearken unto me ; I will 
teach you the fear of the Lord*" And what a melt- 
ing exhortation does the Holy Spirit put into the 
mouth of the same venerable man, when, bowing un- 
der the weight of years, he was just about to resign 
his throne and crown ! — " And then, Solomon, my 
son, know thou the God of thy father, and serve him 
with a perfect heart, and with a willing mind. If 
thou beek hini, he will be found of thee ; but if thou 
forsake him, he will cast thee off forever." Similar 
exhortations are found scattered, in great numbers, 
through the whole scripture. Since then God has 
been pleased so frequently and expressly to enjoin it 
on the young to devote themselves to his fear and 
service without delay, their obligations to do this 
must be peculiar; and peculiar their guilt, if they re- 
fuse. If they would not treat infinite excelience with 
disregard, and infinite authority with contempt, they 
must devote to their God their first years, the fresh, 
unvvasted vigor of iheir faculties, and their affections. 
God has frequently signified, in his word, that 
youthful religion is peculiarly pleasing and accepta- 
ble to him. " 1 love them that love me," says the di- 
vine Redeemer ; *♦ and those that seek me early shall 



76 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, ScC. OF 

find roe.** What a gracious notice did he take, in 
the days of his flesh, even of young childreni when 
he said* " Suffer the little children to come unto me, 
and forbid them not ; for of such is the kingdom of 
God." How kindly did he receive to his arms those 
little ones Mrhich were brought to him, and lay his 
hands on them, and bless them 1 These, af.d other 
passages of similar aspect, shew that the blessed God 
takes a peculiar pleasure in the religion ofyouth, and 
of children ; that he smiles with singular complacen- 
cy on their early dedication to him, and that he is 
ready to assist, with his gracious influence, their first 
serious attempts in his service. Surely, these are an- 
imating and inspiring thoughts. Has the glorious 
God condescended to give such kind encouragement 
to the young to seek him without delay— to give him 
their hearts without reserve ? Their language then 
should be ; " Thy face, Lord, will we seek. To thee 
will we unreservedly devote our hearts, oursclve?^ 
our all.'* They should earnestly implore the lather 
of mercies, that he would take entire possession of 
their hearts, fuim them by his grace, and £11 them 
with his love» They must be cold and insensible in* 
deed, if such a sublime object dees not fire their 
minds ; if they are not animated with a sacred ambi- 
tion to be every thing which the blessed God would 
have them be, and to choose the things which please 
him. 

God is infinitely deserving of our earliest affect ion ^ 
and obedience. Since he is a being transcendenily 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 7T 

gloriously and amiable, he indispensably claims our 
supreme, our earliest, and our constant regard. — 
There is no moment of our existence, in which we 
are not bound by the strongest oblig-^tions to love 
him with ail our hearts. Why then should the pay- 
ment of that tribute which is every moment due, be 
for a single moment delayed ; What can be more 
natural, then for the child to fly to the arms of his pa- 
rent, and repose on his besom his tenderest thoughts 
and affections ? And should not the offspring of the 
God of heaven, every moment watched by his care, 
and nourished by his bounty, devote to their heavenly 
Parent and Benefactor, the fair morning of iheir ex- 
istence—their earliest love, and earliest obedience ? 
His adorable perfections, and the relations which they 
bear to him, render him infinitely worthy this tribute. 
And every moment they withhold it, they rob the Su- 
preme Jehovah of his due. They practically deny 
that he has any property in them — any sovereignty 
over them. 

In youth, the affections are warm and tender. The 
mind is peculiarly susceptible of impressions ; and 
the heart is powerfully attracted to those objects 
which appear sublime, beautiful asd lovely. How 
melancholy, that at this golden period it should en- 
tertain no lively sense of the excellence of the bless- 
ed God !— that it should feel no at dent desires and 
aspirations after the Supreme Beauty^ and the Supreme 
Good! O my young friends ! Can you be content 
to pursue, the objects and enjoyments of the world 



78 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, 8cC, OF 

with such a relish ; and yet have no warni and vig- 
orous affections to give to your God ? Can you feel 
yourselves captivated by humani fading charms ; and 
yet be insensible to the transcendent excellence of the 
being of beings ? Shall the kindness of an earthly 
friend attract and reach your gratitude ; and can you 
irefct the bleeding love of Jesus vi'ith thankless indif- 
ference ?— Cold and insensible indeed is that heart 
which is a stranger to religion* It is lost to the best 
feelings, the sweetest and the noblest sensibilities 
which can possess the human bosom. 

It is much to be feared that those who pass over 
the season of youth without religion, will be strangers 
to it forever. We would not limit the grace of hea- 
ven; Nor would we drive the aged sinner to despair. 
He is in the hand of God and ivith God nothing is int' 
possible. Yet the melancholy apprehension just sug- 
gested, is but too well confirmed by the ordinary 
course of divine dealings with mankind. Indeed, it 
perfectly corresponds with the nature of the case. 
The period of youth is most exempt from worldly 
cares, anxieties and engagements. It affords, of 
course, the best opportunities for giving a vigorous 
and undistracted attention to the things of reiigicn> 
and for devoting ail the ardor and energy of the soul 
to the love and service of God, But when persons 
have once plunged into the solicitude and employ, 
ments of the world, they have ordinarily little lime or 
thought to bestow on the one thing needful. And too 
often is it the case, that if it has been neglected till 



MISS ELIZA FERXINS. f 9 

this anxious and busy period, it is neglected to the last. 
Besides, the longer persons have lived destitute of 
serious religion, the more disagreeable and difficult 
it becomes of course. In youth, the conscience is 
comparatively tender, and alive to the discharge of its 
office. The heart is then more susceptible of serious 
impressions. And there is reason to believe that the 
monitions of the Holy Spirit are ordinarily more fre- 
quent and powerful. But a long continuance in sin 
naturally hardens the heart, it stupifies the conscience, 
and renders its reproofs and remonstrances mere fee- 
blcj and unfrequent. God has said, " My spirit shall 
not always strive with man ;"— an awfully alarming 
declaraiion I Wo to the man, the woman, the childj 
from whom the Spirit of God, long resisted and pro- 
voked, he finally withdraws ! Hence ensues, in a more 
fearful degree, that hardness of heart, that blindness 
of mind, and insensibiiily of conscience, which are 
bui the too certain indicaiions of approaching destruc^ 
tion. 

All opportunities for attending to religion, beside 
the present, are totally uncertain. Nothing is more 
common tiian procrastination in this great concern ; 
yet nothing is more dangerous ; nothing more fre- 
quently fatal. That convenient season^ never present, 
yet ever in imagination near, has lured thousands to 
their eternal ruin* The young arc too gcneially 
prone to expect a long life> and to flatter themselves 
that they will have sufficient opportunity to secure 
leli^ion hereafter, tho' the present should be neglcc* 



so MORAL PRODUCTIOKS, ScC. OF 

ted. Vain flatteries ! Delusive expectations,— 
For how often has the giddy, nrjprepared youth been 
summoned into eternity, just as he was laying the 
deepest plansj and indulging the fondest expectations, 
of worldly happiness ? O the unutterable folly, guilt 
and wretchedness of such a case ! Be warned, then, 
ye careless youth, who have neglected religion hith- 
erto, and neglect it no longer. As you value your 
immortal souls; as you would not pluck down ruin 
on your heads, procrastinate no farther the all-impor* 
tant business. 

My dear young friends — we are all dying crea» 
tures.— We have seen many of our friends and re» 
latives laid in the grave ; many as young as ourselves 
and apparently as likely to live. Some we have seen 
carried off by long and lingering diseases, and some 
cut down suddenly without warning. God only 
knows when we are to follow them into the eternal 
world. We know not the day of our death. Our 
times are in God's hand. It may be to night. We 
are certain the moment of death must come. We 
are certain it can be at no great discance : but we 
know not how near. Look around j^ou, call up to 
your fond remembrance your sister and your brother, 
your bosom companion, your schoolmate ; but a lit- 
tle while ago they were as gay, as blooming, as 
fondly anticipating years of felicity to come as you 
can possibly be at this mement : but where are they ? 
You behold their blooming countenances no more ; 
you can hold no converse with them ; you will forna 



MISS KLIZA PE^ICINS. 81 

no more plans of amusement or recreation with them 
forever. And, my young friendsi let me ask you, 
are you more secure from the stroke of death than 
these your once loved companions were ? No« you 
must confess you are not ; reflect on eternity theni 
and may the Holy Spirit help you to ask your own 
houl this important question : — Am I preparing for 
an everlasting abode in one of those two states ; for 
le member, there is no middle state. Let me en* 
treat you to turn to the word of eternal truth, and 
carefully examine the scriptures on this point, for 
it is of the first of importance to your immortal 
fouls. Permit me to repeat the solemn truth— there 
is no middle way. There are but two paths, the 
broad and the narrow. Are you then, my young 
friends, preparing for life eteraai ? If so, the Spir- 
it of God Las effected a gracious change on your 
soul ; you are changed from a careless prayerlcss 
sinner to a reflecting praying soul ; what but free 
unmerited mercy effected this change, and what but 
the same mercy can carry on the great work. Ever 
bear in mind, that without holiness of life and con- 
versation, ail our profession of religion must be 
vain ; yet remember the only foundation for holy 
practice is an active living faith in Christ Jesus, for 
it has pleased the Father that in him all fulness 
should dwell. Or are you, my young friends, aw- 
ful consideration ! preparing, by contempt of God's 
word, profanation of his sabbaths, scoffing at his 
people, and total rejection of the only remedy pro* 



83 MORAL PIODUOTIONS, ScC« OF 

vided by infinite love and compassion for persisting^ 
sinners, by sinful practices and vicious habits, for 
everlasting punishment, where the «vorm dieth not^ 
and the fire is not quenched, but where the smoke 
of their torment ascendeth up for ever and ever. 
Where the wrath that is poured out will be still 
wrath to come, through the countless ages of vast 
eternity* 

Presumptuous youth, and canst thou dare 

The mighty vengeance of a God 

Whose arm can crush thy guilty soul ; 

Where mercy ne'er can interpose* 

Ah ! turn thine eyes, behold yon scene— 
A Sa>iour's arms extended wide ; 

Behold that stream of sacred blood ; 
Go wash in yonder purple tide. 

JesuS) for rebels bore the curse, 

Endured the cross, despised the shame, 

By faith lost sinners now receive 
Pardon and peace, in Jesus' name. 

Oh ! my dear young friends, if you withstand the 
many calls and warnings ih:it you have from day to 
day, and turn a deaf ear lo the entreaties of your 
friends and ihs wooings of your Saviour, miserable 
must be your condition thicughout eternal ages. 
Seek the religion ot Je^us Chiibt> and you will be 
prepared for life, you will be prepared fur death, 
and a glorious immortality beyond the giave. Re- 
member thai we must all appear before the judge- 



HISS ELIZA PERKIKS. 83 

ment seat of Christ, to give an account of the things 
done in the body, whether they be good or bad— of 
all our secret thoughts known only to ourselves : of 
all our secret actions, which no eye sav/, but the all 
seeing eye of the omnis^cient Judge. He keeps a 
book of remembrance, in which every evil thought 
word and work is registered : every one of which 
will then be brought forth, to our eternal confusion ; 
unless they are washed away in the precious blood 
of our Lord Jesus Christ. We read, Rev, vi, 16, 
that some in that day will call on the rocks and the 
mountains, ^' Fail on us and hide us from the face of 
him that sittelh on the throne and from the wrath of 
the Lamb." God grant it may be not your case nor 
mine. But in order to avoid this dreadful state, we 
must^" seek the Lord while he may be foundi and 
call upon him while he is near : the wicke^l must 
forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his 
tiioughts, and return unto the Loid, and he wtil have 
mercy upon him, and to our God, and he wilt Si" 
bundantly pardon '* This is the day of grace. But 
it will be too late to seek for mercy when the day 
of judgment comes. — If you die without an interest 
in Christ, it had been good for you if you had never 
been born ; for it would be better to have had no 
existence at all, than to have a miserable existence 
for ever This must be the portion of every un- 
pardoned, unconverted sinner. — God hath said it| 
who cannot lie. 

Remember, my dear young friends, that it is not 



54 MORAL PRODUCTIONS 8cc. OF 

your own happiness alone which is concerned, but 
the happiness of many around you ; perhaps of 
thousands and millions yet unborn. Need you be 
reminded of the tender anxieties of your Parents 

on your behalf? N»ed you be told how much, 

how very much of their earthly comfort depends 
on you ? Probably you may be instrumental, either 
to impart joy to their dying pillow, or to bring down 
their grey hairs with sorrow to the grave ! But loek 
into a wider sphere. Should you rise into life des- 
titute of the fear of God, you will be incumbrances 
on society, and too probably its pests and corrup- 
ters. Your evil example may ruin others. You 
may be the unhappy instruments of leading thous- 
ards down, with yourselves, to the regions of endless 
despair. The thought is full of insupportable horror. 
Think, on the other hand, how great must be your 
honor and happiness, to rise up, and be blessings to 
all around you ; ornaments to society ; pillars in the 
church of God ; instruments of preserving and per- 
petuating in a thankless world, the name and religion 
oi Jesus : of diffusing the saving light of his gospel 
among thousands and millions whom you will never 
see ? Do not these sublime objects penetrate and 
rouse your inmost souls ? Do not your youthful bo- 
soms burn with a generous ambition thus to approve 
yourselves the friends of God and man — the benefac- 
tors of the present and of future ages? 

And now beloved youth suffer me to ask you one 
serious alWnteresting question. Have you ever giv* 



l^ISS BLI^A PERKINS. SS 

.'fi your hearts to the blessed God ? Have you ever 
devoted to that being who is transcendently glorious 
iR himself, and who has been to you the best of fa- 
thers and of friends, your tenderest and most exalt- 
ed aflTeciions ? If you have nots if to this momentj 
you have never felt one sentiment of genuine love to 
the God who made you ; if, in refusing him your 
heartsj you have refused him every thing which he 
will accept ; if your lives which have been so crowd- 
ed with the evidences of his compassion and carCf 
have been spent in a series of disobedience and re^ 
bellion against him. O how shall I address you i 
Must not your hearts condemn you ? Must not the 
very thought of such unnatural, aggravated .c:uilt fill 
you with horror \ Say, is not that being worthy of 
your best affections, whom all the angels in heaven 
adore— the being who called you into existence, and 
holds you in life — the being from whose kind hand 
comes every blessing you have or hope for — the be- 
ing who not withstanding all your ingratitude and 
disobedience, bears with you with astonishing pa- 
tience, permits you to walk his earth, and breathe his 
air — nay more, who incessantly guards you by night 
and day, and visits you every moment with number- 
less blessings— nay inore than thh^ the being who 
lias given his only beloved Son to die for rebel men ; 
and who, through him, offers pardon, peace, life, and 
immortal glory to the very chief of sinners, O think 
how unnatural, how monstrous it is, to treat with 
disregard and neglect such a being as this. Think 
8 



B6 MORAL PRODUCTIOKS, ScC, OF 

too, how wretched must be your condition, while you 
continue in this state of mindt Such a temper must 
pollute and poison every source of enjoyment. And 
how miserable must you be in the season of affliction, 
if you have do refuge in God — no hearts to come 
like children^ and pour your sorrows at the throne of 
grace. And alas ! what preparation have you to die ? 
Where, if this hateful disposition remains unsubdued, 
must you spend your eternity ? Where but in the 
company of those rebellious and miserable spirits in 
whose guilt you have participated ? Reflect at the 
same time on the infinite and innumerable obligations 
which bind you to make an immediate, an entire and 
everlasting surrender of yourselves to the ever bless- 
ed Jehovah, Stand astonished at that long suffeiing 
mercy of his, which waits even now, to receive, to 
bless, to save you forever. Let that mercy melt your 
hard hearts, and irresistibly reclaim you from all your 
guilty wanderings. Return, ye prodigaU, to your 
Father's house. His arms are openi his heart is o« 
pen to receive you. Are you guilty I He will par- 
don you. Are you naked I He will clethe you. Are 
you polluted i He will cleanse you. He will bless 
you in time ; he will sustain you in death ; and in the 
regions above, he will give you to inherit joys large 
as your desires, and immortal as your souls. 

Precious Youth— Will you read a few lines atten- 
lively, remembering that they were written for jt?u, 
with a desire to promote )our happiness. In the 
34ih Psalm) David recommends religion to the 



MISS ELIZA PfiRSlNS, 87 

young, on account of the many blessings which at- 
tend it, and the great happiness which it ensures. 
" Come, ye children," says he, " harken unto me ; 
I will teach you the fear of the Lird." He after- 
wards tells them, if they keep their tongue from e- 
vil, and their lips from speaking guile ; if they de- 
part from evil and do good; if they seek peace and 
pursue it ; then the ears of Jehovah will lie open to 
their prayer ; while " the face of the Lord is against 
them that do evil, to cut off the remembrance of 
them from the earth.'* Now, consider, dear youth, 
is it not a great favour to have God hear your pray* 
ers, and grant your requests ? You may be takdn 
very sick ; you may have distressing pains ; your 
dear parents may weep over your bed, and do all 
ihey can to give you ease ; but their efforts are in- 
sufficient ; medicines do not afford you relief; eve- 
ry means employed for your comfort fails. Your 
dear mother takes your hand, and sighs over her 
beloved child in vain ; brothers and sisters weep a- 
round you in vain. Now, to have a friend who can, 
and, if it is for your best good, will give you im- 
mediate relief, will put underneath his sustaining 
arms, and make ail your bed in your sickness, what 
a comfort ! and who can this kind friend be but God ? 
He is the Almighty Physician. Diseases are his 
servants : when He says, '* go,'* they obey ; when 
He says to the destroying angel, " stay thine hand," 
he stops, and the sufferer is relieved. 

When you are thus suffering pain and sickness, 



88 MORAL PRODUCTIONSi &C. OP 

and want God to give you ease, you cannot expeci 
he will do it, unless you pray to him. And if you 
wish to know how to pray to him in sickness, and 
desire that he should hear your prayer, you must 
learn to pray while in health. So that when you are 
sick, you may have comfort, which nothing else can 
give. 

But I fear, dear youth,you are loo apt to think there 
is no happiness in religion, but that it will deprive 
you of your amusements. You are often disappoint- 
ed in your worldly pleasures ! you are not satisfied 
with them; you are continually seeking some new 
method of diversiont Now you have not tried reli- 
gion among your various pursuits; you have not dis^ 
covered what pleasure there is in that. Why will 
you not try it ? Do not all truly pious persons tell 
you that they would not give up their religious en- 
joyments, to possess all the riches, honours, and plea- 
sures earth can yield ? 'Ti& the greatest comfort to 
have a God to go to at all times, especially in trouble, 
when no one else can relievco 

Have you pious parents, my dear young friendji ? 
Will you wound their heails by disobedience when 
they have done and suffered mere for you than you 
can ever realize ? Do you love ihem ; and can you 
bear to be separated forever from them ? When ab- 
sent on a short visit, you Icng and wait impatiently 
for their return. With joy you hear their carriage 
wheels, and run to meet and welcome them. You 
will meet ihera at the bar of judgment i and will you 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 39 

give them cause then to say, <* Lord, here are the chil- 
dren thou hast given us ; but they would not hearken 
to our reproofs and instructions ; they deserve thy 
displeasure ; and, Lord, we must now submit theai to 
thy righteous will." How will you then feel, to have 
not even your parents to intercede in your behalf; but 
looking on, while you are separated from them, and 
from the happiness of heaven, and sent to the darkness 
of an everlasting night. In vain will you cling to 
your parents or pious friends. Their protection will 
be in vain ; they cannot lend it then ; but having 
warned you on the earth to flee from the wrath to 
come, and loving their God more than you, they must 
then resign you to his disposing will* On earth, they 
longed for your salvation ; but they will then see that 
God is just in your destruction. Do stop, and con- 
sider these things, for they will surely come ; " the 
appointed hour makes haste ;" and, while you con- 
sider, resolve, (asking God to give you strength,) that 
you will henceforth give yourself away to liim and 
his service, and will love and imitate that blessed Je» 
sus, who suflfercd more than you can know, to induce 
you to take him for your only Saviour, for your por- 
tion in life, your peace in death, and your everlasting 
felicity. Then, then will you be found at last among 
that blessed number, who shall stand at God's right 
handj and be welcomed among the happy spirits of 
the just, to dwell forever,where sickness is not known,^ 
sorrow shall never come, and the blessed God himself 

shall wipe away every tear from every eye^ 
S* 



90 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, ScC. OF 

My young friends— do you not reflect that time is 
progressive, and that every past year is to us a yeai? 
of added life ; which, of consequence, is so much 
substracted from the period of our mortal existence ? 
But, in general, how improvident are we of time? 
though it is not in our power to recal or retard it i 
We can scarce say, that the present moment is our 
own, so soon is it elapsed ; and who can tell that we 
shall enjoy the next ? This present moment— this 
«^w— .if 1 may so exprei.s myself, is but an instant 
of time, betwixt that which is past^ and that which 
is \n future. While we are reflecting upon it, it is 
gone, and is immediately succeeded by another. If, 
then, time is so rapid and fugacious, how incum. 
bent is it on us to improve the present hour, that 
when it be past, we may not be subject to the disa- 
greeable reflection of having misemployed it ! For 
how painful must be the retrospect, if we should be 
so unhappy as to contemplate, not hours, but days 
and years» or perhaps the gieatest part of life, ciissi- 
pated in indolence, in pleasure, and in the neglect 
of every christian and social duty. A review of this 
kind must be productive of painful sensations* And 
there is no person, however harrasscd with the cares 
and vexations of business, or the repeated calls of 
diversion, but will be obliged, in some solitary mo- 
ment, to submit to a self-examination. Every age 
of human life demands it. 

To old age bitter must be the reflection of a mis- 
spent life. They, who should arrive to this last 



MISS ELIZA JI^ERKiNa. 9i 

Stage of mortality, if their former years have been 
spent in vice or folly, will find no consolation in look- 
ing back to the years which are past and gone. The 
pains of the body will be increased by the anguish 
of the mind. They will be deprived of the com- 
fortable solace arising from reflections like these.— 
" In my youth I remembered my Creator. I have 
neither treated his laws^ nor the ordinances of re- 
ligion, with irreverence or disrespect." 

As your prospects close not with the present life, 
but are extended to the future, it is necessary that 
you should make a provision, for that also. Piety 
is amiable in youth. Postpone not the business of 
Religion, till old age creeps upon you, or till the 
night overtakes you — the night of death— wA<rn fu> 
man can w&rk. Will not the early offerings of our 
mhids, whilst in their strength and vigour, be more 
acceptable to our Creator, than the feeble efforts of 
a decayed understanding, op the tribute of affections 
unanimated by the lively feelings of love and grati- 
tude ? 

Thus, my young friends, I have endeavoured to 
lay before you, some of the motives, to induce you to 
attend, vvuhout delay, to the concerns of your souls. 
There might be added many more; but if these are 
not sufficient to arouse you from your awful lethargy, 
you have great reason to tremble, and to be alarmed 
at your stupidity. Now you liave a day of grace.— 
Now the saints are praying for you ! the Angels of 
6od wait to rejoice over you j the Lord Jesus Christ, 



$3 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, 8CC. OF 

by his Word and by his Spirit, is intreating you to 
come ; the glories of heaven are offered you ; the mis- 
cries of hell are unveiled to your view 2 while the 
worth of your soul, the rapid approach of death, and 
the awful solemnities of a Judgment day, urge you to 
make haste, to escape lor your life from the destruc- 
tion which awaits you* O ray friends, as you value 
your eternal good, 1 intreat you to awake from this 
dangerous slumber. Arise and go to Jesus. Go to 
him a humble beggar, penitent and believing. None 
such were ever sent empty away. While you tarry, 
your sins are accumulating,your danger is increasing. 
Delay a little longer, and your soul, your precious, 
immortal soul, is lost for ever, E. P. 



POETICAL PRODUCTIONS AND SELEC- 
TIONS • F 
Miss Eliza Pbrkins. 

My days are passed aivaj as the sivi/t ships. 

Job 9, 36. 

Yes, dark is the storm beaten mariner's way, 
As o'er the blue bosom of ocean he glides ; 

But darker the tempest of life's fleeting day. 
And colder the storm ihai bangs over its tides. 

Poor wanderer 1 thy rest is the rest of the grave. 
No hour shall thy dawning of pleasure restore. 

For the beam which at morning illumin'd the wave> 
Now sinks into darkness and lights thee no more. 



MISS SLIZA PERKINS. 93 

And thus shall the soul that is bound to the world, 
And drinks the sweet draughts of its pleasures a- 
while; 

At eve be afar on its dark waters hurl'd, 
The slave of its fondness, betray'd by its smile. 

Yet how can that bosom unheeding resign, 

The hope it has cherish'd, the joys it has known I 
Should no beam from on high wiih effulgence di- 
vine, 
Shed its light on the path where we >vand'r alone ! 

O Thou, who with goodness unceasing, di?ine, 
Do'st calm the rude waves of the merciless sea 5 

May this bosom, whatever its trials, be thine, 
And where'er it shall wander be fix*d upon thee ! 

Then long may the wild warring elements rave, 
They move not the soul from its tranquil abode ; 

For sure as the Rock of Salvation can save, 
The spirit exalted, ascends to its God, 



THE CHRISTIAN'S HOPE. 

'Tis not in wealth's vain, glittering show, 
For which poor mortals often sigh ; 

Nor yet in honor's shining train. 
Does this transcendent blessing lie* 

^Tis not in high ambition's aim, 
Qr glories of a fading crown, 



94 moral'productions, &c. of 

Nor yet in pride, whose haughty eye, 
Would ever but itself disown. 

*Ti8 not in pleasure's sparkling cup, 
That wins, e'er touch'd, the sickly taste ; 

Nor yet in bow'rs of indolence, 
Presenting but a flow'ry waste. 

'Tis not on Earthy for earth's too mean^ 
With all its gifts, this hope to move; 

But 'tis in Heav'n^iuW there it blooms, 
The offspring of immortal love. 

GOD IS GOOD. 

God is good I Each perfumed flower, 
The smiling fields, the dark green wood, 

The insect, fluttering for an hour,— 
All things proclaim that God is good. 

I hear it in the rushing wind ; 

Mills that have for ages stood, 
And clouds, with gold and silver lined, 

Are still repeating, God is good. 

Each little rill that many a year 

Has the same verdani path pursued, 

And every bird, in accents clear, 
Joins in the song that God is good. 

The restless main, with haughty roar, 
Calms each wild wave, and billow rude, 



MISS ELIZA PERKINS. 95 

Ketreats submissive from the shore, 
And swells the chorus, God is good* 

Countless hosts of burning stars 
Sing his praise with light renewed; 

The rising sun each day declares 
In rays of glory, God is good. 

The moon that walks in brightness says, 

God is good I — and man endued, 
With power to speak his Maker's praise, 

Should still repeat that God is good. 

** Fear not ! for I'm with you." 

X)h, thou ! who sit'st enthroned on high, 

In viewless splendour rayed ; 
Before the lustre of whose eye 

The brightest glories fade. 

Though thou art high, yet thou dost hear 

The lowly suppliant's moan 5 
Though thou art great, each secret tear 

Begems thy radiant throne* 

When shafts of anguish wound the soul, 

Thy healing balm is nigh ; 
When tempests rise, and billows roll, 

To tj^e, alone, we fly; 

Then hush ! dark sorrow's weeping child, 
Tost on this troub'lous sea, 



96 MORAL PRODUCTIONS, Iccl 

In strains of peace he whispers raild, 
" Fear not I for Vm with thee 1" 

VANITY OF THE WORLD. 

Riches chance may take or give ; 

Beauty lives a day and dies; 
Honour lulls us while we live, 

Mirth's a cheat and pleasure flies. 

Is there nothing worth our care ? 

'Time, and chance, and death our foes ; 
If our joys so flceiing are. 
Are Tve only tied to woes ; 

Let Religion answer No ; 

Her eternal powers prevail 
When honours, riches, cease to flow, 

And beauty, mirth, and pleasure fail. 



THE END. 



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